All My Friends
by Kobal
Summary: A story about a girl with problems, and boy with slightly less problems, and all their friends. 20: "Hands were shook, shoulders were clapped, one hand was kissed..." Shitenhouji-centric/ShiraishiOC/HighSchool/Formally titled "The Brainchild"
1. The water fountain

_Okay, so starting another story while I am in the middle of another probably isn't the best idea. But...whatever. It took me a very long time to understand the focus of this story, so I hope you like it._

_On a side note, I would just to like complain for a moment about how much I hate OC friend-characters. Really, with a passion. They are so horrible to try to write. They are a real pain, but, of course they are necessary for the main OC to not come off as a Mary-Sue. (On a side note, the main OC scored a -2 on the Universal Mary-Sue Litmus test...if that makes any reader feel a bit better before they actually read the story...I don't that all that will come out of the first chapter, but please be patient. Any OC criticism is loved.)_

_I don't own anything except a few OCs, and I apologize for them._

Update: revised October 27th, 2013

* * *

**The Brainchild**

* * *

_Weed_

The conversation I'd stumbled upon was certainly not one I ever thought I would hear. It was something I should not have been privy to, something that wasn't my business and it should have been a shared moment between two powerful people. I shouldn't have given a damn. From behind the stone water fountains, I could hear their words, muffled out by a few rapid splashes before a numbing silence took hold. My legs were tightly supporting the weight of my chest as every rise and fall burned.

Chitose Senri was unmistakably careless. I knew him from the Botany Club. He had joined shortly after he decided to quit the tennis team. He seemed to capture the room with a breeze without oxygen. He was a well-informed person amidst the rising of higher things. Overflowing with admirable qualities and subtle, judgmental smiles, Chitose had excelled at worming his way into a simple structure, he put forth little effort, but gave way to others who were louder, more desperate. He had charmed everyone while letting his plants die.

Tezuka Kunimitsu was something obviously solid. I saw him a few times when Seigaku made it through the ranks in years past, I would try to catch his gaze, only to be given the proverbial finger. Someone with something important on his mind, he would make a wonderful model. Being studied and fawned over had done things to his body, his sense of boldness wasn't confined to his eyes, one could see it in the way his knees best, or the way his shoulders refused to follow him; the boy was fighting for complete control of his body.

My breath came out in miniscule pants, filtered through my hand as I stared hard at the tiny specks of crumbled dirt. I hadn't intended to pry into their conversation, but with the intention to pull my sock up came the consequence of not being seen behind a large water fountain about a meter or so in height, two in length. I pressed my back into the cement, trying not to inhale as sharply as Chitose spat the word "Bored." For tennis champions, the two of them weren't as observant as I thought they would've been; their attention was a stolen by something more important, something more personal and binding. Their voices were calm, or at least Chitose's was, I couldn't see their faces, but the way his tone laced dreary notes hinted at a malignant rehearsal. I hadn't heard Tezuka's voice, I don't think I ever have in my life, but I'd imagine it would be a deep one, impossible of faltering and cracking, maybe only of weakening and softening. I wondered if all tennis captains were like that.

"I'm very, very bored."

There was a silence, and I clung to my gym pants for both moral and physical support. This was messed up…and yet, I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my body, it was an excitement that I hadn't felt before. Exercising my power over something that had nothing to do with me was strangely wonderful, strangely relieving.

"I want you to play me." Those were Chitose's words, I knew.

"I'm going to the doctor's tomorrow, I'd rather not."

I heard Chitose snort, "Are you sure you should be taking time off from school to come here? It must have been quite the drive…kinda misleading since you won't even play me…"

More silence, it was almost deafening. I wondered what Tezuka's face looked like now, if he felt sympathetic or bold. If he was hearing the same thing I was, I would probably never know, because the only thing I heard after that was footsteps, fading into the same silence from which they were born. I let my breath ease into fuller, longer gasps as I listened for anything. But I didn't hear anything.

I took a deep breath, and stood up.

Nothing. No Chitose, no Tezuka, just me, the water fountain, and warm, humid air.

Something about being surrounded by historic walls, rigid sidewalks, and heavy air made Shitenhoji a place of constant comfort for me. No bullying, above average people helping the average people, not much stress, loose social classes, an excellent tennis and track team, and all within a short walking distance from my house.

Numbly, I turned back to the gymnasium, careful not to stumble over my feet as I went, nodding to rows of ancient tombstones that were resigned to their own corner of the grounds. I thought about Chitose and his confused sense of fulfillment. I thought about the girl who asked him out the other day, only to be rejected on terms of inequality and obtuse judgment. I thought about agonizing unrequited love, and groaned. It was some serious bullshit.

By the time I got back to the gymnasium, practice was over, and everyone was helping take down the hurdles, pile up the mats, and pack away the field equipment. I felt a swell of outsider pride, as I looked at the students. They were connected by some circumstance, some compelling force that told them to _do good_. I wondered if people thought that way about me, if I was part of the group, if that girl _who sprints the four hundred_ was actually referred to as Kishishita Hisae. I'm not a mean person, not a particularly nice person either, but I figured I didn't really care, as long as no one hated me.

"Nice job today," I told a girl who was trying to fix her disheveled ponytail. I think her name was Suzume or something. "You're high jump is wicked."

She smiled at me, nodding, and I assumed she was under the impression we were closer friends than I thought we were, because she said, "Make sure to be careful of your splints. Keep up the good work."

I nodded, remembering the blistering pain that felt like it was coming from my bones, and followed a cluster of girls into the locker rooms, wondering if I really wanted to take the time to change back into my uniform. They dispersed, clustering in the showers. One stayed to talk to a girl that was already there, filing her nails; One did javelin and the other did the thirteen hundred. My shirt was pretty sweaty, so I decided to change back, settling for my skirt and uniform blouse, tie and baggy sweater not included. I sat on a bench, basking in the cool air as I switched my socks and shoes.

"Hey, I heard Seigaku's captain is here."

"Really? That boy is _beautiful_! We should go see if he's around!" I looked up slowly, wondering if I was accepted into the conversation around me enough to add anything. A tall, wispy girl in nothing but her underclothes looked at me intently. "Did you see him?" She seemed strangely confused about which to focus on: my awkward silence or her perfectly-shaped hair. Her name was Yukari, and I stared at the back of her flawless hair and touching mine in subconscious defeat.

"You shouldn't obsess about him if he goes to another school," The girl with long black hair straight at her sides and blunt bangs snapped. She was of average height, with high cheek bones and perfectly-shaped eyebrows. I almost remembered her name. "Maybe you can meet him, and he will be charmed by your over-annalistic personality." She curled her lips at the other girl as she buttoned up her blouse. "It's not like there aren't hot guys here."

Yukari looked entirely too put-out. I wanted to accept her invitation, "He seems too dedicated," I said as I looked around, shrugging as I decided that I didn't really care if they didn't want me to comment.

The black-haired girl seemed to ponder this, as though she was wondering if I was on her side or not. She ran her fingers through her hair. "He's out of your league, Yukari. Most guys are."

I felt kinda awful, but it was true. If you didn't have a sound connection to a sports team, odds are you may not ever come in contact with an athlete. The hard-earned trust that powered this school took a long time to earn, and I certainly hadn't.

"Besides," The girl added, "maybe Tezuka's dating someone else."

I turned to Yukari, who seemed crushed by the black-haired girl. It was like her words were a thick poison, hanging in the air as we slowly inhaled it.

"Why else would he show up here?"

"I h-have to go now." Yukari cried, throwing her uniform on in flustered silence before darting out the locker room door.

I sat stupidly on the bench, trying to not make eye contact with the other girl a midst the sounds of the showers. But that didn't seem to matter. "She's so _weird_. I really don't see the point in chasing after these boys when they obviously don't want you to. Like, stop forcing it."

As afraid as I was, I couldn't help but agree with the girl. I for one didn't have the outward courage to openly confess to a boy, but as dumb as that idea sounded, it was strangely admirable, but in a creepy way. I love you, you love me, and we're both too young to fall in love in the first place, so what the hell is this? I sort of nodded. "Did I have a class with you before?"

The girl paused, and I got the warm feeling she was waiting for me. "I think it was back when we were first-years. I remember your face." I stood up. "My name is Haruka. You're dating Shiraishi, right? Hisae?"

"No," I said bluntly. "But, yes."

"Well, Hisae," I didn't think I liked the way she said my name, but then again, no one really says it _well_, "I appreciate your opinion. We need less airheads in the world. People like Yukari give the rest of us, honest supporters a bad name."

"To each their own…" I got halfway through a shrug before I paused, trying to judge the girl and see through her at the same time. She carried herself with power and precision, she was bulky, with firm shoulders and toned legs. I was jealous almost instantly, so I said, "So you _are_ a fan of Tezuka…"

Haruka didn't look flustered at all, "Of course," she said without missing a beat. "And I'd gladly tell him that, if people wouldn't think I was obsessed with him. I don't limit myself to one candidate at a time."

I actually smiled at her, truly glad to have made her acquaintance today.

"Are you finished?" She asked, her voice a combination of a light threat and unexpected similarity.

"Yeah." I said, standing up slowly, still rather sore. As we packed away our duffle bags, I tried to look at myself in the mirror that hung in the small corridor that connected the lockers to the showers. I looked horribly gross with sweat clinging desperately to the sides of my face. My hair looked slightly greasy, falling past my shoulders in like a polluted, black waterfall, unnaturally thin and wispy, prone to split ends and I tried to shrug it off, but sometimes mirrors have a way of haunting you when you least want them too. I figured I must have looked really hot, with my shins taped up under my shoes. The walk home was a time for reflection and _what ifs_, it didn't really matter that much what I looked like.

We left the locker room, bags over our shoulders, and I didn't expect the warm air as much as I always think I will. The sun was setting below the trees, sinking into a mess of orange and pink, leaking small streams across the sky, through the branches. I felt the comforting dirt below my feet and almost smiled. Almost, because at that moment I saw three people coming up from the courts, one tennis racket, and little conversation between them. I stopped, inhaling sharply at the sight of them, their careful gate and calm faces.

Haruka must have noticed, because she stopped too, a good meter away from me. "Well look at that…" She said under her breath. "Tezuka's still hanging around."

I swallowed hard at the sight of Tezuka and Chitose together, and at Shiraishi tagging along, looking very pleased with himself. They saw us, obviously, standing stock still and, in my case, with wide, awkward eyes. It caught me off guard, mostly, that Chitose gave us a slow wave, even more surprising was that I noticed Haruka wave back. But when they approached us, I grew less suspicious, any anxiety draining away as Shiraishi gave me a smile.

Haruka stepped forward, smiling to Chitose and nodding to Shiraishi and Tezuka. "Miss it yet?" She asked, playfully, but without a sense of flirtation. I was pleasantly surprised.

Chitose shrugged, casually. "All the time, except when I don't, you know?" The two of them seemed to share something, and while they shared it, I shuffled my feet until Chitose seemed to notice me. "Are you Haruka's new experiment?" He asked.

I watched his face, longingly. He seemed to talk without really talking, the kind of words you'd hear, but by the time you understood the familiar sounds and syllables, you had forgotten who had uttered them in the first place.

"Excuse me?" I asked; it came out harsher than I had intended.

Haruka stepped in, "Don't be so pessimistic." She hissed. "I like this one." Turning to me, she punched me in the shoulder. "She has a good brain."

Shiraishi snorted so loudly I turned to him with surprising malice, only to catch Tezuka's quiet, neglected eyes. "I need to get going," He muttered to Chitose, who shrugged weakly.

"I'll take you to the station then." He turned to Haruka, smiling a faded, nostalgic kind of smile that didn't seem meant for her and nodded, "See you around." He turned to me, "Brainchild." As if it were a curt goodbye.

I almost swore, but realized words weren't coming out. No witty eloquence_. _I watched Chitose follow Tezuka as the two of them walked away, looking easily and mysteriously like two connecting pieces of a puzzle.

"Sorry about that," Haruka said. "Chitose's a douchebag. But I guess I really didn't have to tell you that."

Shiraishi coughed.

"And you're horrible too." She added. "Making my poor confidant uncomfortable." She took a slightly defensive stance. "I was going ask you to walk me home, but now…well just never mind because I can tell I'm being awkward."

"Don't agitate my moral compass." Shiaishi said, putting his hands in his pockets. "I still have to lock up. Which _should_ be your job…"

"Well then I guess I will just walk home by myself then," Haruka sighed. She turned to me, "See? Yukari is delusional, these guys are nothing special." At the confused and eager look on Shiraishi's face, she added, "That's right. Hisae and I are making a club. A club for normal people who won't fall at your feet."

"I don't want anyone to fall at my feet." Shiraishi pointed out. "Maybe you could just lend those girls your balls and they would have a more balanced center of gravity."

I laughed, feeling a sense of companionship that I hadn't felt in a while. Shiraishi was allusively warm, maybe it was just the sunset. He was in my class: Class Two. Or, at least, that's where I first met him, I _knew_ him from a series of private interactions; in class he took a seat close to Yuuji Hitoji, but only exceptionally vocal when the other boy was around. It was something I guess a lot of people noticed, but no one said anything because everyone just loved Shiraishi so much, anything he said or did had to have some reason behind it.

Haruka seemed sufficiently impressed. "I'll lock up. Just go," She waved her hand at Shiraishi, who smirked a victory at her.

He turned to me, "Careful, that one's a snake."

I felt the urge to leave a smart remark, to make another mysterious impression, but all I said was, "Whatever."

His eyebrows furrowed for a second before he sighed, nodding to the old stairs that lead down the hillside and back to civilization, "Shall we go?"

"Way to hold your ground. Careful not to fall," Haruka mumbled to me as she pushed past Shiraishi and pranced out of earshot.

"I think she's weird." I hissed, knocking my shoe against Shiraishi's.

He had a teasing in his laugh that I didn't bother to try and understand. "I like your unresponsiveness, Brainchild—I do enjoy that. Think I'll spread it around. It's almost catchy."

"Thanks." I mumbled, not quite sure what he was talking about.

"Of course." He started walking, and I followed with a lightness in my heart that seemed to be recovering from Haruka's aura. "When the manager of a very good tennis team picks you out, the day before you graduate, and you are given a new nickname. Well, you must be something special."

"She's you manager?" I asked. Well shit. "You'd think I would have met her sometimes in the last…two months or so. Huh." I felt really stupid. My intrusion into the tennis world had come quickly, almost without my knowledge. We didn't really talk about it. I preferred to keep my life simple and in my own control. "She's a real charmer."

Shiraishi laughed as we began our decent through the trees. "She uses people. Why else do you think she's allowed to be our manager? Charity and kindness really don't matter much when it comes to crunching numbers."

"Ah," Was all I said.

"Her last best friend was from Hyotei, their old manager. Her influence was strong back then, and it's gotten stronger. She had liked the girl because she had different _lifestyle_ choices." There was a light in his eyes that was some kind of combination of pride and disgust. "Haruka built he girl up, introduced her to people. Made her into the confidant persons she was."

"And let me guess," I sighed, "she stabbed her in the back or something? Middle school drama?"

"One day, Haruka left. She cut off all connections and refused to talk to the girl. It was pretty sad."

I wasn't that touched, or afraid, or whatever of Haruka. I wasn't saddened by her cruelty, or weary of what she could do to me. What pissed me off was that she might intend to use me for herself. What she, or anyone else didn't seem to realize, was that there really wasn't anything to me. I couldn't be hurt if I didn't care. So I shrugged. "I didn't want the whole story…"

"I understand." He said, slowing down for a second. He looked at me, raising his eyebrows as if he got some pleasure out of trying to analyze me. I wondered how disappointed he would be to find nothing. "If she bothers you…don't come to me because I probably won't be able to help." His gently face broke into a wild grin. He laughed.

I almost did for a second, before licking my lips. My heart was beating normally—but I had given up wondering if that was _normal_. I wasn't really sure how to choke the words out though. Shiraishi was an openly accessible library of useless knowledge. He commanded a tennis team with a kind vigor, threw himself into projects, and other people with a kindness that I couldn't even begin to fathom. It was selfish, so selfish, to think that I owned him. Or, at least, a piece of him. "Hey…" I said softly, I looked at his eyes, taking in the light more so than any actual color, "you're really nice."


	2. In the stars

_And this is chapter two. I realized, while writing this, that the story is kind of set at an odd time. The transition from Middle School to High School has proved more difficult than I had intended. Oh well. _

_On a different note, I would just like to say that most of this story takes place on a mental plane, kind of shedding some light on the past, etc. Fair warning. _

_I don't own anything except the OCs. Again, I apologize. _

* * *

**The Brainchild**

* * *

_In the stars_

I thought I might have a serious problem when it came to maintaining relationships. In all honestly, it might be boredom. I might get bored with the people around me. I think I always have. I know there might be some Freudian analysis to that would answer all my questions by telling me I had Daddy-issues, but I decided to settle with a _sheer selfishness_ that propelled my every action. I had tried my best to come to terms with the loss of interest in any one person. I've tried to date a boy three times before. After what had been a blissful three weeks or so however, came the morning where I had woken up only to realize that I was no longer attracted to them, I no longer wanted to be around them, no longer wanted any part of a relationship. It had been then that I wondered to myself, for the first time, if I actually had some kind of problem. I mean, do people know what it feels like to wonder whether or not they are ever going to be able to love someone?

I had kissed Shiraishi during the fourth conversation we'd ever had.

The first conversation had occurred at night, maybe around seven, it had been freezing cold, while my little sister and I had been laying on our front lawn with a large, down blanket draped over us. While my sister had been blabbering on about the constellations, I had been checking the time with my phone. I had looked up to see three boys strolling across my lawn. My first instinct had been to tell them to f_uck off._ And I think I actually had. I remember the two other boys held back, but Shiraishi had come up right next to me and sat himself down, introducing himself with a kind of quirky charm. He had the same phone. He had pointed it out, and I had thought it was funny.

The second conversation we had was in passing, on the sidewalk during our first year of middle school. Ever since we had first met, all that had passed between us were smiles and a nod or two. I had decided to say something to him. He had a strange courage, an outward glow that had drawn me in. He was, in a horribly cliché sense, different. I had noticed how everyone liked him, even the upperclassmen. He had always had people around him, following and laughing. And I felt a boldness I had never felt before when I stopped him, saying "We should have an actual conversation some time."

The third conversation had been a date. Sort of. He had taken me to a convenient store. We had taken a subway, just the two of us, and danced through the store, looking at the weird, cheap merchandise. He had been easy to talk to. He had told me all these useless facts about where certain flowers came from, who the people on the covers of mass-produced autobiographies were, what type of gum was best for your teeth. I had learned things about him, that he had one younger sister. That he had a cat, but didn't really like it. That he enjoyed chemistry, and that he loved tennis, but not his own. I had said a few things about myself. About how my parents wanted the best life for me and my sister, but couldn't help us because they had serious communication issues. I had told him that I didn't have pets, that I wasn't a dog or a cat person—I don't have the energy for one or the patience for the other. I had told him how I didn't really like anything, because I really didn't.

The fourth conversation had been in our second year, he had introduced me to his friends. I had thought that they might have liked me. Shiraishi had become the captain of the tennis team. I had begun to pay attention to those kinds of things, matches, training, and the bright dandelion yellow of their uniforms. But I had known almost instantly that Oshitari Kenya hadn't liked me. I had seen the distrust in his eyes before, maybe in a homeless man or something. The friendly couple, Yuuji and Koharu might have liked me, but I don't think I had known; they were somehow wrapped up in their own world to such an extent, that they hadn't really bothered to look past my cold, unsympathetic, socially-retarded exterior—it had made me happy, I remember. There had been a large boy, Gin, gentle and stern, and he had looked at me as though I were some kind of wild animal, pathetic and lonely and in need of a home. Then I had met Chitose. He had worn a sad, out-of-place look, like he had been missing something important. He had clung to Shiraishi with a telepathic sort of dissonance. I had been entranced by his weird grace, almost to the extent that I had not heard Yuuji suggest that Shiraishi and I go make out somewhere. It hadn't been embarrassing, I remember I had almost laughed. But I stopped when Shiraishi looked at me with a timid smile on his face, and asked if I wanted to go make out somewhere.

But I had been happy, that day, I remember clearly. As more days had gone by, we had seen each other when convenient. I had mentioned, casually, that I didn't want a relationship—that I didn't want to be someone's girlfriend. I didn't say it was because I liked him. I said it was because I had a problem. The only thing that grounded me to him was the feel of his lips against mine, the pressure of his hands against my shoulders. He had never once asked me to go out with him. I had been free to feel for other people, as had he, but of course, I didn't have the courage to make any moves. I didn't have the personality itself to force out any feelings I might have had. Shiraishi had never said a word. No coarse judgments, or sad eyes or anything. He had just sort of known that things were hard for me.

But that year, Shitenhoji had lost to Rikkaidai. He hadn't even gotten to play. I had tried to convey sympathy, I had tried to imagine what I must be like to watch your friends lose in front of you, without any chance to avenging them or whatever. I had tried to think about all the effort he had put into the team, about if whether or not the team trusted him anymore, or if he trusted them. I had spent time basking in my uselessness, not close enough to help him, but close enough to feel things. He hadn't gotten to play. I hadn't known what to say…after all, I hadn't even gone to the game.

We'd stopped hooking up. The end of our second year had been boring without him filling my spare time. I had understood what he said he needed to do. I hadn't been in a place to refuse. I hadn't been in a place to do anything. I had spent the final moments of our second year having a silent identity crisis, sort of alone and angry at myself; without track, there had been no outlet—my shin splits were the strongest, most painful proof of some kind of life flowing through my veins.

Our third year had been healing. In our third year, he had met Kintaro, and everything had changed. The redhead was stupid, and funny, and immature and so carefree that he was everything Shiraishi had needed. There had been a new hope, a new flame that was different from the last. The tennis team had started to win. There had been a cheer along our hallways that I hadn't felt before. I had known, somehow, that this year would be different. I had figured, once again, that I would be left out.

He had thanked me, kindly and with a small smile nothing romantic, or nothing that I had been expecting. We had been in the classroom, with four other students one afternoon; he had forgotten to return his English reading book, and my company and I had been retaking a test or cleaning or something. He had come up to me, a picture of coordination and articulation. I had sat, dumbly hunched over my desk with a stupid, confused look on my face, brushing the hair out of my eyes. He had stared at me, somehow enjoying himself. "Thank you." He had said. He had looked the opposite of defeated. As if everything had worked out in a way that he understood, a way that he could cope with. I wanted him to know that I couldn't accept that. So I had kissed him.

We lost again. Seigaku had won. The moved on to beat Rikkaidai, and win Nationals. But there hadn't been the same hole that there had been before. Maybe it was because Shiraishi hadn't lost. Probably not. I think it was probably because of Chitose, that team hadn't felt guilty for loosing. They had gotten him to play again. Them, and Tezuka. The two of them had played beautifully, it was like watching someone paint a picture. Even though we hadn't made it as far, we hadn't lost to Rikkaidai. Something about that was a relief, somehow. And we cheered for Seigaku. I knew we liked them. I felt it the way Shiraishi tried to shake hands with Fuji.

All this, I remembered from my seat in Shitenhoji's gymnasium. All this, I pondered slowly as crap-inspirational words flittered through the air, landing on deaf and acute ears equally. I sat, barely listening to my own graduation ceremony, thinking about the three years I had wasted on watching people. The things I remembered seemed trivial and selfish. If I had grown up somewhere else, I think I might have had friends. Maybe if my adoring parents had forced some kind of kinship in me, maybe if I'd have had a brother, and not a sister, I would be more willing to give stuff up. If isolation didn't result in getting better grades, maybe I wouldn't have thrown myself into it. I felt that over the last two days, my life had changed somehow. It was eerie. Like I didn't have control of it. I know people, people know me, I didn't really spend time with them, but that was no longer my choice, somehow. I felt a strange feeling towards Haruka, of admiration and desperation, maybe a bit of envy. I wondered why I as only meeting her as Middle School was ending. I wondered if she would enter High School with the team. Maybe I was a little more jealous than I originally thought.

I wanted to be included, I knew. I wanted to have friends, and I thought a stupid epiphany might help. I thought this might be a sign, that maybe I shouldn't go on living my life this way. I was bland. I didn't know if I was funny, or if I was witty or interesting. I didn't know why Shiraishi had any kind of interest in me. It was a loud cry of self pity, and I thought that by now I should have been done with it. I knew that I could have stopped liking things, stopped letting my life wane away like the echoes of our second speaker.

I found Shiraishi right away, after it was over. The students were let loose on the school grounds like blind dogs, smelling their way through the familiarity under their feet, above their heads. The parents and teachers mingled, hands were shaken, and hugs were passed back and forth. The air was warm, and I felt hot under my uniform. I left my large sweater on my chair for my mother to find. I found Shiraishi by the tennis courts. The dust dispersed along the ground, climbing the temple walls surrounding the white lines like an ancient guardian about to be buried under time itself. The nets were gone.

It could have been romantic, maybe, if the rest of the tennis team had not been there. I felt intrusive, unwelcome, and I almost turned around the left, but I found myself staring at Shiraishi's bandaged hand, patting Kintaro on the head. He had never told me what was under it. I saw them all, lingering shadows strolling around empty tennis courts. They seemed to be talking amongst themselves, brief sentences only when their paths intersected. I watched Zaizen follow Kenya around, unsure and too lazy to try to catch up. Gin, with his arm in a sling, staring skywards with a sad smile on his face. Koshikawa leaned against the dirty wall, a look of regret along his eyebrows. Koharu and Yuuji walked with their shoulders slung over the other, steps in sync and strangely haphazard, as Koharu sang softy. Chitose stood the furthest away, making some message with his invisible footprints. And finally, Kintaro's eyes, watery as he clung to Shiraishi's other arm were too much to take; for once, he didn't seem to be talking.

I dug the toe of my shoe into the ground, twisting my ankle in a slow circle, too afraid to speak. I figured this would be the time to say something important, but I got cut off when Shiraishi looked up at me, a warm curiosity in his eyes. "Hey."

I nodded, furrowing my eyebrows as all my words sort of drained out of my mouth as I stumbled forward. I tried not to look at the rest of them, not at Kenya's pissy look or at Kintaro's sad eyes. I just wanted to look at Shiraishi right now. I wanted to tell him that I enjoyed being around him. I wanted to apologize for not going the match against Rikkaidai. I wanted to ask him why he felt bad for beating Fuji. I wanted to show him that I would try to find a way to be a better person.

"I'll miss this place the most."

So I just said, "I'm sure they have tennis courts in High School."

* * *

_Chapter two, done. Review if you want to. _


	3. Better than anyone else

_And here is chapter three. I feel as though I should apologize for the lack on cannons in this one, but because the story is set at a weird time, I needed to try and fit the characters in places I though they would be...or something. There isn't much action in this chapter either, and it's more of a "set up" for the next part of the story. _

_I'm going to admit, I find Kintaro very hard to write convincingly. It bothers me, because he doesn't seem to be that complicated. Just a small ramble. _

_I don't own the Price of Tennis. _

* * *

**The Brainchild**

* * *

_Better than anyone else_**  
**

"_I'm sure they have tennis courts in High School." _

Those were the last words I said to Shiraishi Kuranosuke for a whole month or so.

I'd say that I was a changed person, but that wasn't really true. It wasn't like flipping a coin, or turning a shirt inside-out, it was like spilling grape juice on a white carpet. For the first few seconds, you stand there, kinda believing it isn't really happening; you watch the dark purple creep through the soft material, feeling utterly helpless to the stain. You wonder, to yourself, how the liquid seems to grow at an exponential rate. The juxtaposition of the two colors is somehow beautiful. But then they seem to blur together, and a more dull shade of purple melts up. It's then that you rush to the kitchen in a hurry, grabbing for any kind of chemical to undo the mark. You can't get it all out though. The carpet is changed, darkened with something different, something new. And the pure white is no longer pure.

I had started running by myself. After the second day of the break, I had gotten bored with myself, and decided to just run it out. In almost no time at all, my shins had started to burn. I could always feel it in my lungs, it had begun to follow me, wherever I went.

It was on day five that Haruka called me. It seemed that between studying and her family, she didn't want to spend time alone with herself, so she got my number from Shiraishi and coerced me into spending quality time with her. "The boys," She began, "are off mountain-training. Maybe fighting wild animals and building boats. Also, tennis."

"So much tennis." I echoed.

On day ten, I went to the doctor's. My mother asked me to reach a pot from a high shelf that required a chair to reach. Needless to say, my legs gave out from under me. It provoked an argument about priorities, and selfishness, and ultimately, communication skills.

Day fifteen had me clawing at my own window. Sporadically running around the house, itching to go to even the grocery store. I'd brush my hair, dress for a date or something, and instead spend time glaring at my mother while my sister quietly at food or read some book or stayed in her room. My father however, just deflected any kind of cry for involvement with his newspaper. That same day, I spilled juice on my sister and the new carpet; my mother threw a fit and made me wash it. I proceeded to wash everyone's laundry, bored as hell.

Day twenty-one my mother told me I needed a haircut, because I looked like an old doll that you had gotten bored playing with, so you let her hair get gross as she lay at the bottom of a drawer. It didn't look bad, slightly different, more layers, shorter by a few inches. It fit around my head better. I wondered if I was prettier with it. I thought about trying different clothes on, maybe more makeup. Instead, I called Haruka. She was happy, and it made me sorta happy too, to hear her voice all cheerful and bothersome. She asked me over, and, going out on a limb, I said yes.

On the morning of the twenty-second day, I woke up in a different house with mascara clustered through my eyelashes. I rolled over, my hand hitting a lamp as I tried to swallow away a dry mouth and stretch my cramping legs.

"You're phone was buzzing." Haruka mumbled, pulling the blankets over herself as she pointed accusingly to her dresser.

I pulled myself to my feet, my head spinning as the room came into focus. It was simpler, in the morning light, with a large window, a low bed, a hard wood floor and pale, purple walls. When we had the lights off, and just whispered in the light of Haruka's computer screen, the room had been aflame with shadows. I groaned at the window, sunlight bursting through it with a boundless intensity. Grabbing my cell phone, I flipped it open; the battery was almost dead. "Shiraishi texted me," I mumbled.

Haruka raised her eyebrows as she lifted her head, hair a jumble of dark brambles. "What did he say?" She asked it like she expected me to lie to her.

I figured that once someone gets you a toothbrush, you're obligated to tell them certain things. "He just say _hey_." I shrugged. "He's actually surprisingly boring when we don't talk in person."

For a second, Haruka seemed genuinely interested, but then shrugged. "I wouldn't imagine he has much to say now."

"I don't want to hear about tennis." I laughed. I almost said that I thought it was boring, but I held myself back. I typed _I hope you know I expect a bear skin when you get back _before I shut the phone.

"How are things going with you guys?" Haruka asked, stretching out over her bed like a large cat. Her face was lit with a kind of prying curiosity. As if I owed it to her. And I sorta did.

I didn't really know what to say though. I didn't know if she cared if I had been bored out of my mind, or if I had been attempting to re-do my attitude towards things I wasn't sure I liked. I figured that maybe this time, the truth wouldn't actually hurt me. "I like him." I said, almost nodding to myself. "That's it."

Haruka laughed, "Good for you." There was a silence, and I wasn't sure it was awkward or not. Haruka just smiled at me, daring me to share more about myself. Her eyebrows were raised in a friendly gesture of gossip. I grinned back, realizing after five seconds that I was holding the phone closer to my chest than I thought I was. I felt the blood rush to my face, and before I felt the urge to brush it away, to hide behind some snarky remark, I sort of tried to enjoy it. I tried to enjoy the transparency, the sheer egoism and bright spotlight of the moment. Haruka sat up, "Let's go do something."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Pass me my phone, will you? It's over on my desk." I stumbled over, taking it gently before tossing the phone over to her. "I have connections," She reminded me. "I'll see if I can get some people together." She must have seen the nervous skepticism on my face because she added, "I know Chitose didn't go with the team…" She trailed off, as though she thought it might have been the wrong thing to say. I stared at her, realizing something in her tone. "Alright…" She sighed. "I uh…I actually already made plans. As manager of the Shitenhoji tennis team, I need to look after my boys." Her lips twitched into a sad, guilty smile. "I need to ah, help Chitose. I figured that would be easiest if he wasn't around tennis, or Shiraishi…I'm sorry that I dragged you into my evil plan."

"So that's why you asked me over?"

She nodded, straightening her back to its full extension. "I knew you'd say yes."

* * *

I had made the decision to hate people who wore the faces of their watches on the bottom of their wrists long before I had met Kujikawa Yukari. Needless to say, I was reminded of the peeve when Haruka and I met up with her on the street, outside of a restaurant. The place looked rather beat-up, but had a comforting, home-grown feel to it. It was a rare occasion for me to feel comfortable in myself, but somehow I was. Maybe it was seeing Chitose surrounded by a group of five people, but paying all his attention to a bouncing mess of red hair that jumped and frolicked like a wild animal. I smiled, openly as Kintaro ran towards us, legs flailing madly. "Haruka! Haruka!" He cried excitedly. "Guess what?"

Haruka bent over, placing her hands on her knees, as if she were welcoming a puppy, "What?"

"I found a four-leaf clover!" He cried. "I need to tell Shiraishi! I need to tell him! Look, I've got it right…oh…" He looked around him, suddenly panicked. "Oh no! Now I can't find it! No, no, no!" He dug into his baggy pockets urgently. "But I really found one! Honest!"

"Really?" She asked, her eagerness almost real. "You should tell Shiraishi then. I bet he'd be proud." She turned to me, leaning close and whispering, "He doesn't really know about clovers...but Shiraishi is really good at finding them...so you can imagine Kin-chan's excitement when he finds one..."

The rest of the group finally reached us, I recognized the three boys from my classes, but neither of the two girls. Haruka introduced me to them, but I didn't really pay attention. I was, like Yukari and the two other girls, very, very distracted by Chitose. He hadn't cut his hair since school ended; it hung lightly around him, and it looked like parts of it were beginning to mat. He was dressed the same way as Kintaro, in the way that their clothes were too big for the both of them. But while Kintaro's looked like they were outworn, Chitose's looked as though they had been made _by _him. There were patches on the elbows, and on his knees; he smelled strange too, a combination of earth and smoke.

I felt strangely at peace here, amongst mostly strangers. We stood around talking for a bit, Kintaro jumping from Haruka to Chitose, and back again. One of the boys, with his hair cut a bit too short said some funny things about pop culture, and the other two boys just kept hitting each other. The two girls, however, mumbled back and forth, exchanging phones again and again. I felt Yukari beside me, unsure and a bit awkward, not knowing where to put herself. I felt a strange pity in my stomach, so I smiled at her, "Have you been studying?"

She seemed a bit startled, but smiled shyly back, "No…" She shuffled her feet, straightening her baby blue sundress. "No, I uh, haven't found the time."

I realized, suddenly, that Yukari was as bad at small talk as I was. I felt myself growing happier. I thought it was selfish of me, having an upper hand like that, but when we went into the restaurant because Kintaro accidentally ran into an old man on the sidewalk, I made sure to sit next to Yukari in the booth. The inside of the restaurant was nice; it looked bigger on the inside than on the outside. There was too much green for my liking, it was intertwined with a white wood floor. The booths that lined the walls were quite large, and worn with age so much that the fake leather was splitting in places. The far wall was made into a long counter. What I noticed most of all were the violets haphazardly placed about the restaurant. I felt a sort of adventure in this place, as I took my seat next to Yukari and Kintaro, who was now pressed up against the window, trying to stare into the sun.

Haruka promised to buy me anything I wanted to eat, but I wasn't too hungry. I watched boys shove food into their mouths, and the girls pretend to be grossed out, but really enjoy their ability to give the boys a kick of adrenaline. Chitose, however, sat closely next to Kintaro, absorbed in the glass of clear water that had been placed in front of him, courtesy of a waitress who had obviously tried to flirt with him. I wondered what was going through his mind, if he missed his team, if he would play tennis again once we were in high school. There was a false gentleness to him that was unsettling and intriguing. An uncaring restlessness in the way he moved that was sad, even if he didn't see it, though I know he could. Maybe that's why I was so caught off guard when his phone rang, even more surprised to see him smile when he answered it.

"Excuse me." He said softly, patting Kintaro on the shoulder. "I might not be back."

"Chitose!" Kintaro wailed. "You promised!"

"You still have this lovely girl here," He nodded at me, "she is a friend and she knows Shiraishi very well." I felt my heart beat faster and my throat go dry. "Haruka's brainchild thinks she knows him better than anyone else." His eyes, his eyes, his eyes. "I'm kidding."

He stood up, nodded to Haruka who was suddenly paying him complete attenion, and left, ringing the bells on the door tauntingly.

I followed him with my eyes in a shock, feeling Kintaro's breath on my neck as I stared out the large window behind us. I saw Chitose stroll along the sidewalk. Then I saw another boy walk up to him, one considerably shorter, with glasses.

"Did you hear?" A girl asked. "I guess Senri's been smoking a lot more..."

Chitose stood close to Tezuka, hands in his pockets and shoulders scrunched.

"He's just bored. Or depressed, maybe." One of the boys offered.

Chitose prodded the Tezuka's hip casually.

"You shouldn't say that," Haruka hissed. "You don't know what you're talking about."

He brushed his lips against his ear.

"I want to call Shiraishi." Kintaro whined.

Chitose was smiling.


	4. Crown vetch

_Sort of a short chapter...but I feel as though this story needs to be updated...I'd like to say thank to you to Chairo, for reviewing. Hopefully more people will haha. Yeah. Anyway, for those of you/anyone really who are reading but not reviewing, here is the next chapter.

* * *

_**The Brainchild

* * *

**

_Crown Vetch  
_

I didn't know what to make of the Bible, but I didn't think I will ever tell Shiraishi. He didn't seem to make much of it either when he told me a story about a crazy old woman who tried to eat a copy of it in one of the towns in the mountains. I had laughed, in a sort of delirious way, and there was still some of that laughter in me as I tried to wedge myself out of the top of the plastic slide that was clearly made for a small child. I was stuck, so I pretended I wasn't. It was a calm moment, just the two of us, loitering in an old playground—the cheap shit-for-fun plastic kind that stands across the asphalt from a shiny new metal contraption of speed and hilarity. We probably looked stupid, but I felt cool not caring. Something about absurd happiness does that to you.

"And then she threw her shoe at Kenya." Shiraishi laughed. He was resting in a bright red tunnel that served as a passage between two platforms. His voice echoed off the plastic walls; I couldn't see his face, but I knew it must have been nothing too special for him. "He flipped."

"Kenya's an asshole." I said.

"He really is." Shiraishi agreed. There was a silence, the kind that is only comfortable from one side, I assume. "He wants to get a motorcycle license."

I snorted, trying to twist my spine around so I could see Shiraishi, but I couldn't, he was too far down the tunnel, and I was too brittle to turn. I noticed a sad tone in his voice, like the one my dad gets when he caves to my sister and buys her candy. "It's his own choice…" I said slowly, trying to imagine the look on Shiraishi's face so I could guess the right words to say. "Um…he might be a very safe driver, you know."

"Really?" Shiraishi asked sarcastically. "He has real _rager_ potential." I heard him crawling through the tunnel towards me, adding, "This seemed more cliché when we were on the swings…"

I stared down the slide into the piles of sand; I could almost still see my footprints. "He's not gonna die or anything." I shrugged. I felt Shiraishi behind me and I half-expected him to touch me, but he didn't. Not in the way I wanted, anyway. I felt the sharp edge of his spine against my back, his shoulders against mine.

"Some people aren't meant to drive," He said. "Like old people, or teenagers with things shaved into their heads." I felt him sigh. "And it's weird to think about your friends all growing up and doing things that aren't tennis. It's like there's this safety net that everyone is trying to break out of, and it's still my job, as captain, to bail them out when they screw up. And you just know they're gonna screw up. Kenya's going to keep being an asshole, I'm just…I'm supposed to keep them on track. This isn't what high school is supposed to be for."

I knocked my knees together, trying to knot my awkwardly bony fingers together and comfort myself. "It hasn't even started yet. You have four days, alright?" I pretended that I was talking to myself. "You have four days to spiral downward into a crevasse of despair and teenage angst and baffling confusion. You get to complain about how important you think you are to other people, and convince others that this is a new chapter in your life. Four days. Four days."

"Wait, does that include this one?" Shiraishi asked.

"Yeah, yeah I think so."

"How are you gonna spend them?"

"I don't know...running."

"Are you going to join the track team?" He asked.

"Are you going to join the tennis team?" I wasn't like I was trying to be funny. I just wanted to get some kind of rise out of him, maybe. More than likely, I just wanted to force myself to run out my shin splits and enjoy the endorphins along the way. But I did laugh. "You think they'll make it?" I almost said _everyone_ or something, but the fact that they weren't my friends stopped me. I knew they didn't think of me as their friend. I hadn't been able to get Chitose out of my head. I couldn't get Kintaro's voice out of my ears. Fuck, I couldn't get myself out of myself. I had three days to finish whatever I had tried to change. Three days left. I sighed, sort of regretting my obligation to the number four. More so, my obligation to Shiraishi. As an embarrassingly perfect human being, I was truly glad to see him confused, somehow. I was glad that his responsibilities were weighing him down.

"So, you really mean three days, if we are including today." Shiraishi reminded me of a red string, tied around my finger.

"Oops."

"I wonder if we'll be in the same class."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his hand, bandaged, still. Shiraishi had nice fingernails, for a guy. Nice skin, airy face. His clothes always fit him well; pants pleasingly low, humorous product-placement shirts, and normal shoes. There was so much effortlessness to him that I tried to only see his faults. As I stared dumbly at his hand, I remembered that he was horrible at painting—according to Koharu. I knew he hated using other people's pens, and sometimes got too into a political argument. He enjoyed learning new things too much, and seemed to thank people too directly. It was as though he never wanted to forget anything, but encode it all his own way. I didn't know much about psychology, but there's probably something about that…Maybe it had to do with his lack of comfort zones. It wasn't like, the more comfortable he was, the ruder he got, the more bite his sarcasm had, or the sharper his grin got. Nothing really changed about Shiraishi, and it didn't matter who he was with. There really were no other sides or different faces or anything.

"I hope we are."

I wondered, briefly, as I decided against putting my hand over his, if I was one of his faults.

* * *

"I'm in love with Kenya." Yukari blurted out.

Haruka rolled her eyes and I almost choked on my soda.

"But I also kinda love Shiraishi." She sent me a worried glance. "I'm sorry."

I shrugged, "Doesn't matter."

The three of us sat dully on Haruka's bed, waiting for the nail polish to crust over our nails. Yukari sat upright, nervously at the end of the bed while Haruka let herself sprawl her legs across my lap, her head hanging off the edge. I couldn't help but stare at her hair, it was so long it hit the floor. She waved her hands in front of her face repeatedly. "If your parents weren't downstairs right now, I'd fight you or something," She said. "Also, my nails aren't dry."

"It's not my fault…" Yukari mumbled as she tapped her fingers against her thighs gently. She seemed to lose her train of thought, so she just stared at me intensely. "I just want you to be happy."

I tried to not bite my lip. "He's not my boyfriend."

Yukari gave me a look that seemed too genuinely confused to be real, but I was starting to think that this girl lived her life like it was a soap opera, or like she wanted it to be one. She gave us all these roles to play, herself as the main, easily-identified –with and somehow victorious. "But you two are together…"

I felt Haruka flex her legs. "I don't like labels," I mumbled.

"Then how…"

"Geez," Haruka snarled, "let it go. If you wanna like Shiraishi, go right ahead. If you want to like, Kenya, more power to you. Although you are barking up the wrong tree. It's less complicated than it needs to be."

I wanted to say something to Yukari to ease the tension. I felt bad for her. I wanted to comfort her, and tell her that maybe this year, she'd find someone, or something. She seemed like she didn't believe that high school would have a bunch of strangers, a bunch of new people to meet. She seemed less excited about it than I was. I knew Haruka wasn't going to say anything, I knew that she practiced a "tough love" approach to everything she did. But I figured that if there was some covert, sympathetic therapy going on here, it wasn't my place to destroy it. Somehow, it was like choosing between Yukari and Haruka. Haruka would hold her position as Queen of Reason for as long as I was alive. For as long as I was alive, she would wear that crown. And after all, in my soap opera, Yukari is the hopeless romantic, and I'm the one who wins.

* * *

_Ta-da. If anyone really cares, the next chapter is when high school starts, which means there will be more of the tennis team, and less of the OCs. I know that makes me happy. _


	5. Forgetmenot

_So here is another chapter, for those who haven't forgotten about this story. My muse comes in waves._

* * *

**The Brainchild**

* * *

_Forget-me-not_

From the moment I saw the high school, I felt the dark, shitstorm above the building start to rain down an acidic fury. And I wasn't just being dramatic. I had decided, the moment I had graduated middle school, that I would hate the new high school with every fiber of my being. I was predisposed to oppose everything it stood for: the future, hard work, shin splits—once I joined the track team, upperclassmen, and what I knew would go along with that, tennis. High school tennis was going to be the death of me. It was going to drain the very life out of me, flush me down a toilet of mental anguish. What awaited me was nothing but embarrassing boredom.

Shitenhoji's high school wasn't that special. I had taken the entrance exam sleepily, being perfectly average. I was a pro at average. Average was my thing. Shitenhoji's high school wasn't famous for outstanding academics, my mom had reassured me; it was more well-known for a combination of basketball and tea ceremonies. It was an artistic school, as artistic as one could be while trying to grind information into our skulls.

The entrance ceremony had been interesting. The smartest student had gone up and given a speech. He was a dull, handsome boy who seemed terrified of public speaking, but swallowed it back and kept his eyes away from his friends. Another speaker discussed clubs, which would be showing themselves off today after school all around the campus for those who wanted to sign up. There was talk of honor codes, dress codes, rules and the disciplinary committee.

After that, we were shuffled down familiar hallways. I saw familiar class labels, and after checking the slip of paper, found my way to my classroom. Out of habit, I went to the seat that would have been mine, the fourth row, and three from the left side, pulling out the chair. I stopped for a moment, trying to overpower the muscle memory. I slammed the chair back into the desk. Not this time. The years that follow this day will not be the same as the ones of the past. My monotonous past would be erased by a newfound power and productivity.

I backed away, heading back to the door, open and friendly to an oncoming flow of new students. I plopped myself down in the desk closest to the door just as Kenya shoved past a frightened girl with glasses who let out a confused, "Oh…" upon contact.

Kenya stared down at me for a few seconds, and I stared back, awkwardly. "Of course…" He muttered. I imagined in the logical half of my brain that he would sit in the opposite desk, directly across the room. I watched him scan the rows, looking for another familiar face, but finding none.

Then Haruka waltzed in, followed obediently by Shiraishi. The two walked with a comical confidence that was anything but threatening. Somehow Shiraishi defused Haruka's intensity. Both their faces lit up when they saw me and I could tell my face was red under the joy. Shiraishi quickly turned to Kenya, giving him a smile. Kenya gave a weird twist of the lips back, and took the chair behind me, falling into it with a sigh.

I held my breath, praying that Shiraishi wouldn't sit next to him. But Haruka literally pushed him out of the way to get to the empty seat next to me. "We're gonna own this class," She said.

"Look at our little dictator," Shiraishi chuckled, sitting behind her and tapping her chair with his foot. "How will you go about assembling your army?"

"I have my right hand right here," She proclaimed, slapping me fondly on the shoulder. "Right here. On my right. That's clever."

"Maybe you can be our class representative?" I suggested, trying to weasel my way into a conversation that for some reason felt like it was none of my business.

"I could be the ruler of two armies."

A woman entered the room with a brisk walk and straight shoulders. Pushing her glasses even higher up her nose she cleared her throat. "My name is Honda Yukiko. It is a pleasure to meet you all. I will be your Geometry teacher, I hope you will allow me to teach you to the best of my abilities." She moved behind her desk and rewrote her name on the blackboard. "I'm sure you have been told that today has an abbreviated class schedule. This is so you can all visit any clubs you wish during their presentations on campus, as well as to give you the chance to sign up for a sports team. Tryouts are tomorrow after school. The schedule is written on the board here already, if you would like to check."

* * *

I didn't want to join a club. That sorta meant that I had to make friends and share common interests. But tryouts weren't until tomorrow, so I followed Yukari around as she tried to make conversations with tall upperclassmen boys who must have thought she had asthma.

"What about your hurdles?" I asked when she wrote down her name for the Fashion Club. "You beat your old PR last year…"

"Well…" She began, "It's hard to meet people in track. Everyone is so good now…the stakes are so much higher…and all the guys have much higher standards—I just can't compete with that. I think I should start making friends with people who have common interests, and I never really liked track. Also, exercising kinda sucks."

The girl behind the booth raised an eyebrow, more at me than Yukari and I tried to smile it away. "So you're lazy now…" I hissed, taking her by the elbow and pulling her away.

"Look," She said, "you've got running so you can take out your frustration with not having a social life. It's not a crime to want to make more friends. And I wasn't that good anyway…"

"But then it will be just me and Haruka," I sort of mumbled.

Yukari suddenly looked awkward, her eyes darted back and forth anxiously. "Didn't she tell you? Haruka is putting all her effort into Student Council…she's quitting track too…"

Although it didn't compare to a slap in the face, it did sting a little. Kind of like my stomach dropped…like I was so alone in the moment. And suddenly very pissed off.

I walked away from her, without saying anything. She didn't call after me either, and I don't think the crowd that had flooded the open gates of the school would even notice. Everywhere around me there were people making friends and finding something that they really wanted to pursue. Not even seeing Shiraishi turn down a group of upperclassmen girls when they asked them to join the Yoga Club. (Or, in actuality, Kenya telling them to _fuck off_ and pulling Shiraishi away because he was too nice to refuse.)

They had their tennis, their camaraderie and spirit. Track was large, but I sprinted alone. I didn't know if Yukari and Haruka were being selfish…or if they had just forgotten about me. I wasn't in the mood to dissect either possibility.

I think Shiraishi tried to make eye contact with me from several hundred feet away, but I turned to a loud shriek to my right as a girl tripped over an electrical cord that the Gaming Club had set up. Her cry of surprise was even more stunning than the bright, neon sign that now flickered weakly in the sun.

The girl sort of fell into me, and the smell of vanilla flooded my nose. Almost choking, a pushed her away, less with the simple intent of stabilizing her and more with the intent to make sure I didn't fall.

"H-Hey!" She shrieked again.

I jumped, confused. "All you alright?" I asked.

"Don't touch me," She spat, eyes ablaze under a mop of very short, black hair. She was a good head taller than me, so I assumed she was an upperclassmen. She turned and huffed off. Even angry, her gate was somehow flawless, no clenched fists or hunched shoulders distracted from her intense lips. She was gorgeous, which sorta made me hate her more.

"And that," Shiraishi said, tapping me on the shoulder, "is the fastest female sprinter on the track team."

"Well shit," I said simply. I tried to not look at him, but people were beginning to forget what just happened, and kept wandering from one booth to the next. "What time are the tryouts for tennis?" I asked, even though I already knew.

"The tryouts are tomorrow after school," He said. "We all just signed up today."

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

I wish I could say I didn't know why I asked it. Like, maybe it was an impulse: a spur of the moment uncertainty. But it wasn't. I knew that I wanted to see him. Just him, if the situation allowed it. It sucked to know exactly who you want to see when no one wants to see you.

"Sure," He grinned.

* * *

I walk like someone with a pole through their shoulders, (not my words, Kenya's) and I never talk with my hands. My mom told me to fake being comfortable, and to talk expressively so that people know I am engaged in what they are saying. Usually I don't care what they're saying.

We ended up at the tennis courts, but I knew we would. A couple regulars were practicing, lightly hitting the ball back and forth, laughing.

"Have you met the team?" I asked. "Are they nice? Will Kenya make it? I kinda hope he doesn't…"

"You're talkative today," Shiraishi said.

I savored the moments when he was focused on me. I would take any observation, any criticism, any compliment.

"They are nice," He began. "But I think we can take them. Tennis isn't too big here though. Everyone loves basketball."

"I hate basketball."

Shiraishi leaned against the chain fence that surrounded the courts. "There's something about team sports that I enjoy. Tennis is kind of a happy middle, I suppose. The defeat places more blame on one person, but so does the victory."

I kicked my left foot with my right.

Shiraishi chuckled.

"What?" I asked, straightening and trying to straighten my posture.

"I'm never sure what you're thinking," He said, his face a mixture of charm and subtle analysis. He brushed some pale hair out of his eyes, slowly. "Sometimes you look so happy, and sometimes you look so…not."

"I'm usually not," I added.

He looked away, smirking.

"I'm taking pills for it."

"What?"

"Kidding…" I kicked my shoe again. "Not funny…"

I made awkward eye contact, biting my lip.

"Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"What?"

He laughed again. "I've kinda been wanting to ask you, but I was afraid you would just walk away or something…"

"I have social skills…" I growled, but not without a blush. "Enough to…you know…"

"You don't really have to answer," Shiraishi shrugged. "I just wanted to put the question out there. Just in case you meet a handsome basketball player who happens to want to become a doctor. Or something."

"Doctors creep me out." I felt like I should say something else, so I added, "I'm not a fan of relationships. I hate the feeling that I'm stuck with one person. Like, I just want to be open about…everything. I don't want to have to meet your parents, or be emotional support if your cat dies…"

"That beast will never die."

I laughed, trying to express sincerity and reason at the same time. Neither were my strong suits.

A tennis ball crashed into the fence, about a foot from Shiraishi's head. He didn't flinch.

"Sorry!" One of the players shouted. "Hayama, watch your serve!"

"I'm not really a team player," I said, more so to the server than Shiraishi.

* * *

"Are you _kidding_?" Kenya asked, stomping his foot at me.

"So we take the same subway home. Fuck off," I said back.

"I think you _both_ should be quiet," Chitose added.

As the subway rolled in, bringing with it a colossal heat wave, I tried to stretch out the cramps in my shoulders. I took a different route home now; it was longer, but not by much. The only problem was that now I had to spend even more time with Kenya and Chitose. Both seemed to hold against me mysterious actions I was not aware of.

I slumped down on a cracked leather seat and pressed my head into the metal pole to my right. Chitose sat down next to me, and I unconsciously groaned.

A large, old woman pushed Kenya aside for the space next to Chitose. "Better luck next time," he smiled.

Kenya wrinkled his nose, sitting opposite me and quickly putting on headphones. They looked expensive.

The subway began to move, and while the car was not packed, there were a significant number of people. I clutched my bag tightly across my chest, feeling the beginning of a headache.

"Kenya…" Chitose murmured. "Kenya?" The blonde boy obviously didn't hear him. I stared at Chitose dumbly for a few seconds before he turned to me, slowly, as if he didn't want Kenya to see the two of us. "I have a request, Brainchild."

"Can I say no now?" I asked, feeling the twisting pain in my shoulders ripple down my back. "I'm not in the mood."

"Your first track meet is being held at Seigaku, correct?"

"I don't know…" I had signed my name, trying to not make eye contact with the girl from before, but since no one gets cut from track, I had felt a sense of silent victory. "We haven't even practiced yet…"

"Well I had a conversation with your coach, and he told me it was true." Chitose seemed genuinely invested in this meet. "Yamabuki is going to be there as well."

I just nodded, not knowing where he was going with this.

He sent a quick glance at Kenya before pulling his dark eyes back to me. "I need you to make a delivery for me."

"I'm not smuggling drugs, if that's what you're asking…"

I was kind of afraid of Chitose, not gonna lie. There was a wild unpredictability about him that was somehow offset by his blatant confidence and calm sense of self worth. "It's a gift for a friend. They are flowers, actually. Forget-me-nots, you know them?"

"Of course," I snapped. "Just give the gift in person." I don't know what made me think I could talk to him this way. I found myself nervously looking between his intense eyes and Kenya's stiff posture.

"Now now, no need to be plucky. I just need you to deliver a small pot of them with a letter. That shouldn't be too hard. I know track meets are boring and nothing really happens."

"No," I said, "I already have stuff to carry."

"Oh well…suit yourself." He leaned back in his seat, looking anything but put-out.

I wasn't sure if I should try my luck at taking him on. My lack of self-confidence and sheer argumentative stupidity would surely somehow get me killed. In all honesty, this might be that moment. But he called me plucky so…"Who is it for?" I asked.

"Y-heah… you are interested." He turned to me, a fresh grin on his face. "If I tell you, then you have to promise that you'll do it."

"Fuck that." I slumped down, somehow too prideful and too afraid to take a step in the right direction. (_Right direction _in this case meaning _maybe the first step to becoming friends with Chitose_.)

The subway rolled to the stop, and Chitose stood up. "Well, I probably won't see you so…thanks anyway." He looked surprisingly sincere. I was confused. Usually, his sincerity was darkened with sharp daggers of barely-there insults.

"Bye," I said dumbly.

Kenya looked up, nodding to Chitose and for a second, I thought he was going to leap out of his seat. But he didn't, merely pulled off his headphones.

The moment passed, and I still just sat there, even when the subway kept moving. I felt so out of it. I was alone in track. I might have blown whatever I had with Shiraishi—still not sure yet. And I have to face all the factors I was pissed off at tomorrow. I have to tryout alone tomorrow, after sitting in class for hours with the only people I considered my friends.

"Kenya?" I asked. "Would you ever date me?"

His head jerked up and his eyes widened, as if I had simply sprouted wings, or something. "Are you kidding? Listening to you talk," He paused, obviously pleased with the little gem he had thought up, "is like watching a train filled with poisonous chemicals crash into a church. I couldn't bear to handle you on an emotional level."

I wasn't as angry as I should have been, I guess. Maybe I was too tired to care, or maybe I never really cared what he thought to begin with. I liked the second notion better.

"Some people think I'm charming."

He snorted. "That's a lie. You are not charming by any means."

I was quiet for a bit. Not really unsure, more so open to the numbness of the situation. "Would Shiraishi date me?"

The subway stopped again, and a new crowd of people got on. Kenya actually stood up and sat next to me before he leaned back and sighed. "People usually know why Shiraishi does the things he does. Like, usually it's out of kindness—so I had originally thought he was just doing whatever you two were doing just to be nice. But it's so rare that he gives himself to one cause above others—I don't want to have to talk about his inner workings with you, but if you don't know the answer now, then I don't know what you're doing."


	6. An Tachibana

**The Brainchild**

An

It was still dark, at five in the morning when I stepped outside. I sat down on the front step to tie my shoes up, looking from street light to street light. I stood up, stretched my legs one more time and started running down the hill.

I let my legs absorb each collision with the ground. I felt like a baby horse, trying to stand up for the first time. But I ran the awkwardness out, sprinting down the hill as fast as I could, choking on my own breath.

_I have to be better than her._

From the bottom of the hill it was only a ten minute run to the subway station.

If I can sprint all the way there…

The houses around me were completely dark, shadows only lasted for a split second as I flew past them, the momentum of the hill propelling me down the road with so much velocity I almost tripped. Form be dammed I was almost flying.

Then my shins started to burn, as if the bone itself were flaking off into little splinters. But I was too close. I had wound my way down the hill and onto the main street. A few cars blew past me, headlights paving the way through the dim light that was just starting to peek over the skyscrapers.

I tripped down the cement stairs to the station. And I couldn't even yell shit because of the dry, bloody taste in my mouth. I clung to the railing, coughing, swallowing, spitting and sweating. I pulled myself up, stumbling down the stairs, into the warm cavern of the heat of the station. I needed to find a vending machine.

There was an elderly, exhausted-looking woman at the teller's booth. I flashed my bus pass and she let me through without even looking at me. I went down another flight of stairs to the subway platform. Past the colossal movie posters, and advertisements, I saw the glorious vending machine. I put in some stray coins from my jacket pocket, and a bottle of water fell out.

I stood there, on the platform, chugging the water desperately. I was going to get better. I was going to win. I was going to win everything. I was going to be cool and funny and kinder and faster and I was going to get everything I wanted.

The scoreboard-like panel above me signaled the arrival of a subway. I jumped back at the rushing sound the car along the tracks as the metal thing flew down the tunnel, screeching to a halt. My side of the platform was empty, except for two construction workers rubbing their faces into weary productivity; they rose the second that the doors opened. A few faceless strangers got off. But from where I was standing, I could see, creepily, into the car. There was a boy, about my age with tangled black hair. It didn't look like he saw me—really saw me—he had tired eyes. But I saw a tennis racket at his side.

The seconds seemed to expand as we stared at one another. But then the doors slunk shut and he was carried off into the black tunnel.

"And so then this guy is like, 'why would anyone want to have a club about flower arranging,' and I told him that there was obviously more to it than that. I've seen some people make some really cool things out of flowers and stuff and I think that the club deserves to stay open…wow Hisae, you're not even listening to me…"

"I'm not what?"

Shiraishi let out a laugh behind us, but Haruka threw her hip against mine, knocking me into the wall.

"You're not listening to my story. There is this _dickwad_ on student council—"

"Flower arrangements, I got it."

"Geez man, sometimes I can't tell if you listen to anything I tell you." She slid open the classroom door, letting herself in first. "Seriously, am I not interesting enough for you?"

Before I could answer, Kenya had bumped into me. We looked at each other, both waiting for the other to step inside. A solid five seconds went by before Haruka let out a dramatic, exasperated sigh. Shiraishi just laughed again.

"After you, Brainchild," Kenya said quietly.

I listened to everything the teachers said. Every hour that went by I spent scribbling in my notebook, trying to define every abstract theory, trying to connect every historical event to the bigger picture, trying to expand on the simple things, trying to memorize equations. I didn't look at Haruka once.

But when the lunch bell rang, Haruka jumped up from her seat like lightening and said something about a council thing. I didn't have time to say goodbye.

I felt like my world had stopped too abruptly. I was still thinking in my notebook and speaking in geometry.

"Can I borrow some money?" Kenya asked.

"Did you forget your lunch again?"

"Sorry man, I gotta get that checked out."

Shiraishi dug through his pockets, pulling out some change and dropping it into Kenya's expecting hands. "I don't have much…"

I saw my chance. I took it. "Here," I said, offering a crumpled bill.

Kenya stared at me, half-standing, half-already running. "I'll get you back for it tomorrow." He grabbed it out of my hand, shoving past the desks, without looking back.

"See?" Shiraishi said, gracefully moving to Haruka's seat, "He is warming up to you."

"You think so?" I asked absentmindedly as I dug into my own lunch. After three mouthfuls of rice I noticed Shiraishi looking at me in that weird way he does while looking completely content and proud and peaceful. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Not food," He said, smiling, "you have something different on your face. Looks different."

The only thing on my face was red. Until Shiraishi reached forward, with his hand, gently, I felt my body tense.

"Shrimp tempura is my favorite."

"Hey!"

He plucked the breaded shrimp from my box.

I just sat there, looking at how perfect he was, so pleased with himself. I put my feet up on the side of his chair. "Tryouts are today."

"Sort of," He said, "like, anyone can join the tennis club but the ranking matches aren't until next week. Today is just a say for the third-years to make us run around."

"You look so excited though…" It was more of a private thought, but for a small second, he looked a little embarrassed, but in a good way. "What if you don't make the team?" But then I ruined it.

"I won't," He said, "not with that attitude." But he was smiling. "I guess I've never thought about it that way. Well, I mean, I do, but I don't with the team, you know?"

No.

"But you have tryouts too, right?"

"No one gets cut from the track team."

"Oh, I almost forgot, Chitose is having people over to his place tonight, if that sounds like fun for you."

I almost jolted up in my seat, "Do you think…I could?"

Just then he gave me a really sad look. I didn't know what it meant but it made me feel bad. Did I make the mistake of thinking we were something that we weren't? How could I have fucked _that_ up?

"Of course you can." He brushed off the last look with a smile. "Get Haruka to take you there, she knows where it is. Eight o'clock."

We left class together, when the bell rang, Shiraishi comfortably walking between Kenya and I as we both passive aggressively fought for his attention. The gym and field house were on the other side of the campus so I had plenty of time to hear Kenya's story…

"And so then we are stuck in this hallway filled with lazars, and obviously it's gotta be Echizen and me to go through but like it's so scary and we're thinking there's no way we are gonna be able to do this, and then we hear Kirihara's voice from far away and it's like he is chanting—"

"Who is Kirihara?" I asked.

"He's—"

"He's a fucking weirdo," Kenya cut in. "Anyway it turns out that the chant was actually a series of steps and spins and we followed the dance correctly, and got through!"

The look that appeared on Shiraishi's face was almost like anger, or some sort of mild, complacent frustration that Kenya didn't pick up on. "Wait, why did you break into the camp again?" Shiraishi asked.

"I told you, because our alcoholic coach needed more booze from the lounge."

Suddenly Shiraishi stopped walking; he was so quiet that Kenya and I kept walking for a few steps before we felt the puzzle peace was no longer beside us. Shiraishi was bent down, carefully running his fingers through a patch of grass that had pushed its way around the fence around the school's garden. "Hang on…" He mumbled.

"Not again," Kenya groaned.

I took a step closer, trying to get a better look at him. He plucked a leaf from the ground and held it out to me. It was a four-leaf clover. "Here," He said. "For your tryouts. Good luck."

I began fumbling with my school bag until I pulled out my notebook. I flipped through the pages until I found a blank one, then I held it out to him. Shiraishi placed the clover gently onto a page and I pressed it shut. "I've never found one before…thanks."

"I've got so many of those things," Kenya said, reminding me he was even there. "Everyone on the team has at least ten because he always gives them away. I swear you're the only person in the world that can do that."

"Maybe you should give up tennis and just collect four-leaf clovers?" I suggested.

We went our separate in the lobby of the chilly field house, when the locker rooms parted.

"Good luck," Shiraishi said again.

"You too," I said, smiling without even realizing it. Maybe Shiraishi was right. Maybe I did have something different on my face. Was I happier? I don't know. Was it because I had been eating more vegetables? Maybe I was expressing myself better. The instantaneousness of this made me a little uneasy. What were the odds that I could just _get happy_ all of a sudden?

I found my own corner of the locker rooms and started to undress. It was grossly hot in the room. Smelly, like sweat and piss. I fixed myself up, even checked the mirror to make sure no hair was trying to wisp itself away. I followed the rest of the girls out into the field house lobby, then out the large glass doors and across the parking lot to the track. There were about thirty people gathered in the middle of the football field, talking, laughing, looking nervous and some looking excited.

"Sorry, do you mind if I borrow that bobby pin?"

I jerked towards the voice of a girl my age, a little shorter. She had hair sharply cut just past her chin. Her head was full of colorful hair clips but I could see a piece slipping down her neck. I pulled the bobby pin from the hair tie on my wrist. "Here."

"Thanks," She breathed, pinning up the stray piece of hair. "That was really gonna bother me the whole time. I'm An, by the way. An Tachibana."

"Hisae Sumeragi—"

"All right, if I can have your attention, please." The man I assumed must be the coach stood in the front with a megaphone and the girl I pushed in the hallway to his left. "We are going to do group stretches, then two laps, then you will all break off into your events, understood?"

Near-perfectly synchronized stretching began, and An stood a little closer and started whispering to me. "What even do you do?"

"Sprinting."

"Really? Me too? I was originally gonna try out for tennis, but I'm kind of sick of it I guess. Thought I'd try something new."

"Why is everyone into tennis…" I mumbled more to myself than her.

"Well my brother was the captain of the Fudomine tennis team last year and my boyfriend is the vice-captain of his team now so it's all I ever hear about."

"Does Fudomine not have a high school?" I asked.

"We do, but a kid brought a gun to class so my dad pulled me and my brother out in a heartbeat. Now I we've moved back with Mom and, here I am."

I told myself to keep talking. To keep smiling and keep reacting. I wanted to be friends with this girl. "You lived here before?"

"Yeah, then my dad got a job in Tokyo, parents got divorced, yadda yadda yadda…I haven't seen my old friends in years so, we'll see how that goes…"

We started our two laps and neither of us talked. I hadn't heard of Fudomine before. I just focused on my labored breathing and the prickle of my splints.

"Hey," I asked when the laps were over and we were looking around for a designated upper class sprinter claim us, "do you know where our first meet is?"

"Our first…I think it's a home meet."

I bent down to stretch out my calves. Chitose lied to me.

"Something wrong?" An asked.

"No, no, just shin splints." I was an idiot. Why would we have a meet all the way in Tokyo? Was he just making fun of me? It made sense to think that everything he said to me a was a thinly (or not so thinly) veiled dig. And it was stupid and childish but I just wanted them to like me. I wanted anyone to like me. I wanted to be a person that people wanted to be around and I didn't understand why I couldn't contribute anything. And in that moment every good thing I had been thinking broke off into the recesses of my mind and all I could think about was the pain in my legs.

"Hey," An said, "when practice is over, do you want me to go with you to the infirmary?"


	7. Hotel California

Hotel California

I barely made it home after my shower and taping my legs in time to change.

"Where are you going?" My sister opened my bedroom door.

"Knock first," I hissed as I pulled the shirt over my wet head. "And shut the door, Airi."

She heaved a sigh, a useless, childish one and threw herself, face-first onto my bed, groaning into the sheets. "But you didn't answer my question."

"Huh?" I was too busy trying to shape my hair in the mirror. "Oh, a friend's house."

"Will you be back soon?"

I threw open the bottom drawer, pulling out the only pair of jeans I had.

"Hisae!"

"_What_? I don't know. It's not a school night."

"Mom isn't feeling well," Airi said into my pillow.

One leg into my pants, I stumbled, trying to pull them up. "You mean like…Ugh alright, don't worry. I'll be home before midnight. I'll grab her something from the store." I looked at myself in the unflattering, full-length mirror in the corner of my room. "How do my boobs look?" I asked, turning to my sister.

She pulled herself up onto her elbows with exasperating effort. "Like boobs."

My cellphone chimed from somewhere on my bed and both my sister and I both lunged for it. I sunk my knee into her back, pulling the phone out of her hands as she squirmed under me.

_Haruka: so your house is really out of the way. Yukari is gonna be at yours in about five to get you._

"Get off me!"

I rolled off my sister, sliding off the bed and onto my feet. "How cold is it outside?"

"Colder than you."

"Shut up."

Just then, I got a text from Yukari asking which house was mine. I ran to my closet, pulling a big sweatshirt over my head and stuffing a house key into my pocket. I heard Airi run down the stairs after me.

"You can call me if you need to," I said, sitting down to pull on my shoes. "And remember, I'll be home before midnight." I stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door before Airi could protest. I spotted Yukari standing awkwardly in the driveway of my elderly neighbor. "Hey!" I called out, giving her a half wave. "Sorry, I thought Haruka gave you the address."

"No worries," She smiled. Yukari was absolutely beautiful, in an airy, conventional way. Even in the sunset, she had a perfectly symmetrical face, perfectly wispy hair and her make up was always spot on. I thought about asking her to do my own make up one day, but I didn't. She was wearing a really pretty black dress that was delicate, but also looked really comfortable.

"Shit," I said. "Was I supposed to dress up for this? Shiraishi didn't say—"

"Oh no, no," She hushed, "I just try and dress every day like I'm gonna have a face-off with my worst enemy."

I shrugged. "Unexpectedly good advice." I only noticed the large bag at her side when we started walking. "Are you planning a costume change?" I asked. She smiled, opening the bag for me to see, like it was a secret. A small bottle of orange juice of a bottle of tequila. "I think the orange juice is supposed to be in the bigger one."

"Liquid courage," She said. "I'll save a shot for you."

We reached the intersection within ten minutes, to find Haruka dressed in jeans and a see-through cardigan. "Not you too," I sighed. Then, an afterthought, "Aren't you cold."

"Mind over matter," Haruka said before nodding up the hill. "Chitose's is this way."

Yukari let out a groan beside me. But the hill wasn't as bad as it looked; the trees got closer, the sky got darker and we took turns carrying Yukari's alcohol.

"Did you bring liquid courage too?" I asked.

"I don't need more courage," Haruka said. "But I brought a bottle of wine."

"Well aren't you classy," Yukari said under her breath.

Before Haruka could respond, I cut in, "The houses here are really nice. I've never actually been up here before but this is pretty modern." The houses got progressively less traditional as we made our way up the hill, more like a weird art project than a home, but they were cool and different and made out of sharp angles and blocks.

"A lot of rich people live up here," Haruka said. "Chitose's mom is a lawyer, and his dad is a total hippie so I guess this is a compromise? Anyway, this one's it." She gestured to a hidden driveway, at the end of which sat an almost perfectly square house, illuminated by all its possible lights. Haruka pulled out her phone, texting a quick message to someone before we started down the driveway, lined with small, also square lights. Haruka didn't wait to knock, she simply reached for the doorknob and pushed her way in. The bright light of an enormous garage made my head spin. "This way," She said, leading us past four mountain bikes hanging on the wall, endless tennis racquets, a basketball hoop and an art easel to a set of unstable wooden steps and another door. We took our shoes off here, tossing them into the pile that lay before us. Behind the door was a hallway lined with coatracks, which we didn't need so Yukari and I followed Haruka into an open kitchen with a stone island and a monstrous fridge—covered in drawings and photos—a large table with eight chairs in the other end, and wide, clean counter space.

I drummed my fingers along the island, it was made out of some dark, glossy stone. Haruka pulled open a cupboard and took out a wine glass and a double shot glass.

Suddenly we heard thunderous footsteps and a door down a hallway to the right swung open and Kenya, Koharu and Yuuji sprang out from what looked like a basement. "Just making yourself at home, huh?" Kenya laughed.

Haruka said nothing, just raised her glass at him and took a drink.

"Close the door, Koharu! We don't want the smell to get out."

Koharu sauntered towards the basement door, flinging it open, yelling "Guys come on up the girls are here!" He shut it carefully.

I felt Yukari tense up beside me as she pulled the bottle of tequila from her bag. She took a deep breath, "Does anyone—"

"Shots!" Koharu and Yuuji cried in joyous harmony. The two of them rushed to either side of Yukari, kind of pushing me out of the way.

"I don't believe we've met."

"You beautiful flower you, allow me to—"

"Geez you guys are the worst…" Chitose groaned as he and Shiraishi emerged from the basement, bringing with them a burst of the sour, earthy smell of marijuana. "I might have some lime in the fridge." He plucked the salt shaker from the table. "Let's do this properly."

As we lined up seven shot glasses, and I watched Shiraishi cut up the lime into perfect little pieces, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. I could be about to say something stupid, or careless, or rude or embarrass myself to the point of no return, but I didn't care. As Yuuji passed me the salt on my left, and Shiraishi passed me the lime as he stood on my right, and Yukari beaming at me between her new best friends, and Kenya smelling his shot and cringing, and Chitose swaying back and forth, I felt like no one cared. No one cared about all the stupid things I worried about. No one was going to nitpick every misstep. Chitose wanted me here. I stepped on Shiraishi's foot gently to let him know I was glad to be here. Haruka rolled her eyes into her red wine.

"Ready?" Koharu asked. "Let's have a countdown. Here's to making it another year!"

"New friends!" Yuuji added, rubbing his face against Yukari's shoulder.

"Better weed!" Chitose added.

"Here's to Hisae," Haruka muttered.

Shiraishi nudged my foot with his.

"Alright, on the count of three, one…two…salt!"

I brought the back of my hand to my mouth, lapping at the salt like a dog.

"Drink!"

I picked up the shot glass, downing the golden liquid in one atrocious gulp.

"Oh god…"

"It burns!"

"This is awful!"

"Lime!"

I sunk my teeth into the lime, the sourness evaporating the sting of the alcohol, almost pleasantly. I watched everyone un-shrivel and shake the tension from their shoulders.

"Well, that's done. Let's take this into the basement, yeah?"

We migrated, single-file down the carpeted steps down into the basement. It was beautiful. There were Christmas lights across the ceiling; couches and beanbags in every corner, a glass coffee table in the middle, and atop of it, a stunning, three-foot tall bong.

Chitose fell down into the beanbag in front of the glass sculpture, pulling out a plastic baggie from his sweatpants. Unsure of what to do, I promptly sat down next to Shiraishi on the small couch. Yuuji and Koharu pushed Yukari between them on the larger couch, squeezing Kenya onto Koharu's lap, and Haruka took a metal chair from the dimly lit corner and sat herself on it gracefully.

I was transfixed as Chitose pulled buds out of the bag; he put them in a small silver cylinder and twisted it, grinding it up into almost-dust.

"Shame on you," I muttered to Shiraishi.

"Don't worry," He whispered back, "I treasure my lung capacity too much." He pulled a can of a beer that I didn't recognize from behind the couch.

"Michael Phelps smokes pot. Look at him," Chitose grinned, opening the cylinder and carefully packing the bowl.

I looked up at Yukari, taking her second shot with Yuuji and Koharu, lime and salt no longer part of the equation. I looked at Haruka, but she didn't look back.

Suddenly, Chitose was passing the bong to me. I took it, like it was a delicate child. He handed me the lighter too, but I wasn't sure how to balance it. "Take it standing up," Chitose offered. "Kura, light it for her."

I almost protested, but Shiraishi just smiled at me and I nodded instead. As soon as I saw the warm orange light of the flame, I started breathing in. Shiraishi only held the lighter to the bowl for a second or two, and I heard someone say, "That was barely anything." But as I watched the smoke rise up the glass tube, beautiful and milky white, and as I felt it burn the back of my throat and down into my chest I grinned through it all. I held my breath for as long as I could, letting the smoke filter out between my teeth, then passed the bong to Kenya, who glared at it, then passed it to Yukari, who never looked more excited in her life.

Slipping back into the couch, I watched the laughter ripple across the room. I watched Yuuji and Koharu lace their fingers together behind Yukari's head. I watched Kenya try and balance himself on Koharu's lap without falling into Chitose. I watched Chitose's eyes cross every time he checked his phone. I watched Haruka cross and uncross her legs. I watched Shiraishi twist off the small metal piece on the top of the can. "Why do you do that?" I mumbled.

"Huh? What?"

"The can. What if you cut your mouth on it?"

He laughed as I sunk father into the couch. "I like to live dangerously."

It was my turn with the bong again. And I figured I could hit it without even sitting up. Yukari burst into laughter and almost spat out her third shot as Shiraishi positioned the bong in front of my mouth and Chitose lit it. This time the smoke was excessive. It was heavy and hot and too much to take in. I coughed so much of it out but slapped my hand over the top to prevent any more for escaping. "Give me a second…"

Haruka poured herself another glass.

Kenya had finished four beers. Shiraishi had two.

Yukari, Yuuji and Koharu all did another shot.

"Okay…" I pulled the rest of the smoke out, passing the bong back to Chitose, who grinned. "Well what do you know, Brainchild can take a toke."

"My face feels soft," I told Shiraishi.

"Can we do drunk tennis one night?" Kenya asked.

"Ecstasy…" Yuuji groaned, shoving himself against Yukari playfully.

Chitose choked and I was more awake than ever, looking at how everyone was laughing and leaning into each other. And it wasn't just the cloudy twitching of my brain—I was really happy. I felt on top of the world, like I was literally floating because my shoulders felt free and my face was still soft. "Feel my face."

Shiraishi lifted his hand, gently and slowly, running his knuckles over my cheek.

Holy shit.

"You face is, in fact, very soft, Hisae."

My turn for the bong again, I could see through the smoke Chitose blew out in pretty little rings. I glanced at Yukari, chugging her orange juice. And I breathed in as Chitose bent down to light it for me again. I was getting better at it. The smoke passed through me easier. I could hold it in longer. It came out my nose this time. Chitose slapped his knee he laughed so hard.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Haruka announced, standing up fluidly and offering me her hand, "come with me." It wasn't a question.

I followed her like a ragdoll up the stairs and down the hall to a weird, lavender-smelling bathroom. She sat me down on the side of the baby blue tub and looked at herself in the mirror. I stared at the black and white tile on the ground, and at the little pieces of soap shaped like flowers.

"Keep an eye on Yukari, will you? She's never gotten drunk before."

I nodded, moving my head to music that wasn't there.

Haruka ran her fingers through her hair. "She's just been pissing me off lately. She's so clingy. And you know, I want to be there for her, but I can't all the time, you know? Like I know she gets too attached and sometimes she thinks we're better friends than we really are like—no, no I don't want to hear about your new crush, or how badly you want you want to lose your virginity like, I think she is kinda desperate for friends, you know. I'm sorry I don't care about the stupid things you do, Yukari, I've been having sex since I was thirteen and I'm so over it."

"You're not better than us."

I don't know how I calmed down enough to say that. I didn't mean to say it. But I know exactly why I did.

Before I saw Haruka's face, there was a knock at the door, and she jumped up to get it, flinging it open to reveal Kenya, moving from one foot to another. "You guys take forever."

Haruka turned, throwing me the nastiest look I had ever seen on a person. "You know what? Shiraishi can _have_ her." And then she left. She shoved past Kenya and I jumped up after her. My body was so loose and flimsy that I tripped on the mat on the ground. Kenya lunged at me. I felt his hands. I felt my knee collide with the black and white tile, and I saw Kenya hit his head on the towel bar. The pieces of soap in the dish clattered to the ground as I hugged the toilet for support.

Then we both reached for the soap, enthusiastically.

Kenya and I stared at each other for a few seconds, and then, then I laughed. I shrieked and laughed, my chest aching and my knee stinging. Kenya began to laugh to, a drunken, foolish laugh and soon he was hugging his knees on the floor, shaking as the waves of laugher crashed over him.

"Oh my god," I said. I was crying. "What stupid candles. What a stupid bathroom."

Kenya stretched his legs out and he smiled at me. "Hey," He said. "I'm sorry."

"Why is the toilet blue?" I asked.

"Dude, I said I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I—"

"No," I said. "No, look. You don't understand. This is the ugliest fucking bathroom I have seen in my entire life—who did this. This is black and white and the toilet is blue. Kenya the toilet is blue."

We laughed some more.

When Kenya finally pulled me up from the floor and we made our way back downstairs, I noticed Haruka was gone.

"The girls came back together," Koharu snickered.

"Shut up."

"Where is Haruka?"

Yukari cradled the empty bottle of orange juice in her lap. "She left. She came back down for her wine and then just left…"

I checked my watch. We had only been here an hour. Christ. "How are you feeling, girl?"

Yukari beamed up at me as I ran my fingers through her hair. "Like a million bucks, girl."

Kenya set down in Haruka's empty seat after pulling another beer free from the plastic they were wrapped in. "Where is Zaizen…" He mumbled.

"He actually told me his aunt died a few days ago," Shiraishi said. "I think the funeral is today."

We all stared at the floor before Yukari raised her half-empty bottle of tequila, "To Zig-zag's dead aunt!"

A spray of beer erupted as Kenya choked on his drink. And Yuuji wrapped his arms around Yukari, "I am truly blessed to have met you," he sobbed into her collar bone. I moved back to the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest in an attempt to stabilize myself.

I felt Shiraishi lean in, "Let me know if this isn't your thing, I can walk you home…"

I smiled up at him. "I'm having a really good time," I said. "Thanks so much for—"

"Shiraishi…remember when you asked my dad about that weird Indian plant thing?" Chitose kicked at Shiraishi with his endless leg. "He said he was gonna try and smuggle it back through customs for you. For 'research purposes' he tells me."

"Research? Like gathering data about getting arrested at the airport?" But he looked so happy. He sat straight up and couldn't stop moving his hands. "No that's…that's so _cool_… tell him I said—"

"Can we not talk about plants for five seconds?" Kenya asked. "Can we all spend those five seconds instead watching me shotgun this beer?"

The group nodded, Yukari cheered.

Kenya fumbled with a key for a second and then in one stab, punctured the beer can. He jumped to his feet, giddy and stumbling a little, and cracked up the top. Foam began to drip from the second hole before he tilted the can, crushing it slowly as the alcohol flooded his throat. He slammed the empty can on the ground triumphantly. "Let's see your illegal plant do that!"

Shiraishi looked at him fondly, "You are better at drinking beer than any plant."

"Koharu, do _not_ fall asleep!"

"No man, let him sleep, we can draw on his face later."

Koharu sprang back into consciousness. "Don't you dare! My mom still hasn't forgiven you for the last time, Kenya."

Kenya fell back into his chair, holding his sides. "Chitose, dude, do you remember when we had the tournament two summers ago and we were on the bus and this dude passes out…" We all leaned closer to catch some of his enthusiasm.

"I remember," Chitose giggled.

"And none of us had a pen, right? So then Osamu gives us the only one he has—a fucking sharpie and we are all sitting over Koharu in his seat and we can only draw one thing on his cheek. And so we had to make it good—"

"You drew a dick!" Koharu bellowed. "You and Chitose, and you, Yuuji, between the three of you, you decided to draw a giant dick on my face. And you!" He pointed an accusing finger at Shiraishi. "You should have helped me, _captain_. But no, no you didn't, you didn't."

"I'm pretty sure there were circumstances preventing me to intervening."

"Yeah, you're a colossal pussy."

Suddenly, Yukari jumped up, mumbling something and ran up the stairs. No one paid much attention. Yuuji and Koharu sort of fell into each other and became one tangle of arms and legs and laughter.

"We should invite Seigaku back," Kenya said. "Or like, go to Tokyo to see them! We can play them again and see how good their new team is. And we can bring Kintaro—he would love it."

As I continued staring at Shiraishi, I noticed his face fell a little. Not exactly at Kenya, but something else. It was the first time I noticed he didn't have the bandages on his hand and arm. His arm looked fine. He hadn't been hiding some kind of scar or deformity or anything so what…I reached my fingers out, running them along the blue veins in the back of his hand.

"Sumeragi, you're such a creep, I love it," Yuuji cooed from another dimension.

"You took them off…"

Shiraishi looked even sadder, and he was about to say something when—

"It was one of the best matches I have ever seen," Chitose said, smiling.

"My coach," Shiraishi began, "he gave me a solid gold gauntlet at the beginning of my first year. And he told me to wear it until I graduated. It was kinda flashy so I covered it in bandages but at the U-17 camp last summer…I had to take it off."

"He's being modest," Chitose said, grinning. "Kura here practically saved the high schooler's life with it."

Kenya made a disapproving snort.

But it didn't seem to cheer Shiraishi up at all. He still looked like he was constantly reliving some unsavory memory, or like he was trapped in some shitty feeling that was always in the forefront of his mind. For the first time in our relationship I realized maybe he wasn't as carefree as he seemed. I mean, I knew he worried about things but this seemed deeper. And I didn't know what to do with that.

"I'm gonna go check on Yukari."

I made it halfway up the stairs before I sunk down, leaning my head against the railing. I was dizzy and my legs wouldn't stop twitching. The high was just passed its peak, or maybe it was at its peak. Maybe that's why the room suddenly felt so different. Maybe it was my inability to comfort the people I cared about. Maybe it was my inability to understand anyone but myself. Sometimes I felt like I was such a part of them and sometimes it was like I was just an extra in the movie of Shiraishi's life. A phase, a chapter, or even less than that.

I heard the door open above me.

"Yukari?"

"Hisae? Hisae can we go home? I'm not feeling well…"

I stood, up grabbing the railing for support. I saw the poor girl, her once-immaculate make up now smudged hopelessly around her eyes. I took her hand, leading her into the bathroom. I sat her down on the toilet before I saw the syrupy vomit on the tile. "Hold on…"

"I'm sorry," She sobbed. "I just didn't want them to see…" Her whole body was shaking, like she only had a fraction of control over it. And the blood vessels above her eyes had ruptured, leaving red freckles across her eyelids. "I just want them to like me, you know? How often do you have the opportunity to get to know such cool people and I didn't want to mess it up but…but I did…"

I got about fifteen tissues from the box atop the toilet and got down on my hands and knees, cleaning up her puke.

"You can go ba—you can go back down, I know you really like Shiraishi so you should go back down there."

"Don't worry about it," I said, tossing the tissue into the trashcan. Round two.

"Where did Haruka go?" Yukari whined. "I want Haruka…"

I checked the cupboards for some kind of cleaning fluid and a shitty sponge. "Well now Chitose's bathroom is gonna smell like citrus instead of your puke. I'm gonna need you to stand up," I said when the floor was fresh and sanitized. "I can go back down and get your things, but you have to mentally prepare yourself for the walk home, alright?"

Yukari looked up at me through half-lidded eyes and just nodded.

I made my way back downstairs and suddenly the warm room got quiet. "Um, my parents want me home soon so Yukari and I are gonna head out now…" I stepped around Koharu's body, picking up Yukari's bag and the bottle of tequila.

"It's only like ten," Kenya said.

"You can explain that to my dad if you want," I said, making my way around the table. "Thanks for having us, Chitose."

"Thanks for showing up," He said.

Shiraishi stood up too. "Kenya, are you staying here tonight?"

Kenya stretched and almost fell out of the chair, "Yeah man."

"By all means…" Chitose snickered.

"Alright then, I'm out too."

For a second I thought about insisting that Shiraishi stay, but then I figured I might need and extra hand getting Yukari home. We waved goodbye, I tripped on the stairs, and eventually we made it into the yellow light of the kitchen. I didn't have time to watch Shiraishi stand around awkwardly so I just pushed past him to get to the bathroom. "Yukari?" I knocked, and, hearing her sigh from the other side of the door, opened it. She was in the same place I left her. "Have you thought about moving?" She nodded, dumbly. Shiraishi let out a breath behind me and I stepped in to the citrus-lavender bathroom, dragging Yukari to her feet. She looked pretty much dead now, unable to really talk, like she was on autopilot.

Shiraishi helped me guide her through the kitchen and down the steps into the garage. "I've got her if you wanna get your shoes," Shiraishi said.

I passed Yukari off like a limp noodle, pulling my shoes on as quickly as I could.

Shiraishi set her down on the steps, "Which ones are hers?"

I rubbed my forehead, feeling the beginning of a landmark headache coming on. "The, ah, the flats."

"What is a flat…"

"The small, shiny black ones."

I watched him dig through the pile of other people's shoes, and I smiled. I sat on the step next to Yukari as Shiraishi carefully slid them onto her feet before rummaging for his own.

Eventually we guided Yukari through the garage, and out into the night. I gripped her dead fish of a hand in mine as we made our way down the hill. Shiraishi shrugged off his jacket and passed it to me and I tried to put it on Yukari but she slapped my hand away. "C'mon it's cold. Yukari just put it on…" She sighed in defeat and threw out her arms like a scarecrow. Once I got it on her I grabbed her hand again and we kept walking. Yukari couldn't walk in a straight line, so Shiraishi and I had to act as barriers on either side of her to prevent her from running into the guardrail or the road. "Did Haruka say anything?" I finally had the courage to ask. "Like, before she left?"

"Not really," Shiraishi shrugged. "Just that she needed to get home. Why?"

"I think I said something wrong, is all."

"Don't worry about it. She's not gonna worry about something you said when you were reefed out of your mind."

"Hey!"

Lucky me might have said the only thing that was important enough no matter what state I said it in, like it transcended all inebriation.

"Why did you never tell me about your arm?"

Why do you never tell me anything?

"Because I wanted to be cool for as long as I could."

"Where are we?" Yukari jolted upright, panicking. "Where am I?"

"We are taking you home," I said. "But…shit…which house is yours?"

The hill started to even out but Yukari was still a mess. "No, no, you can't bring me home. I can't go home, my parents will kill me. Oh god I told my mom I wasn't ever going to drink—I promised her and she is gonna be so mad she is gonna kill me…I ruined everything. Hisae you can't take me home, please don't."

"Do you want to…" I took a breath, "stay at mine tonight?" Yukari started to cry, her drunk, wobbly world out of her control. She didn't say anything, just nodded and closed her eyes. I looked at Shiraishi, "Alright it's just around the corner here."

"I know," He said.

My house shone like a beacon when we came to my street. None of the lights were on but my heart still throbbed in my chest. I had never done this sort of thing before. Never brought home a drunk friend and boy at the same time, either. We carried Yukari up the porch and I leant her against Shiraishi while I dug my key out of my pocket. I held my finger to my lips, in an attempt to warn everyone to stay quiet, but of course as soon as the door opened Yukari jumped inside.

I chased her into the living room, grabbing her arm and hushing her. "I'm gonna let you sleep in my bed, yeah? But you have to be quiet." I lead the two of them through the dark house, wincing with every creak of the stairs, every time Yukari kicked me in the shin or fell into the wall. Finally I flung my bedroom door open, pushing Yukari inside and flicking on the blinding light. Yukari groaned but let herself fall face-first onto my bed, not unlike my sister earlier—when it seemed like a different day altogether. "Take of his jacket," I whispered but Shiraishi shook his head.

"Don't worry about it. I'll get it later."

We stood in silence for a moment, watching Yukari drift into what was probably going to be the deepest sleep of her young life. Then Shiraishi stepped forward, taking the afghan from the end of my bed and draping it over her.

"My little sister," He said, "her name is also Yukari so I…" He drifted off.

I shut the light off and we tiptoed down the stairs and back into the living room. I turned on the lamp next to the couch and threw myself onto it, heaving a sigh. It wasn't until about after a minute, when I opened my eyes that I realized Shiraishi was standing at the other end of the room, looking pleasantly unsure and awkward. "Thank you," I said. It occurred to me that this was completely my territory. The place where I knew every nook and cranny and every quirk and creak but Shiraishi was so out of place and I loved it. "C'mon," I said, kicking at the other end of the couch. "I just, need a minute to breathe."

He cracked a smile and sat down. I prodded his sharp hipbone with my toe.

"You guys are really funny."

"I'm glad you think so. Humor is actually really important to us, or, was, as a team I guess."

But I was tired of him looking like there were so many things he regretted. "Well I suppose if you don't want to be all mopey around them, you can do it here."

"Mopey?"

"Mopey. I used to think I was the weird one," I said. "But you're pretty weird too. With your mysterious poison hand and your comedy tennis team and I'm glad I found that out before I got too far in."

He laughed and I felt great about it. I felt like somehow I had earned this moment with him. That the universe was giving me this one chance to prove that I could handle being a good person. He grinned and grabbed my ankle, tugging at it. "Too far in? I'm afraid that here at Shitenhouji once you are accepted in, you are unable to leave."

"You're like 'Hotel California' but for gay tennis players."

I remember laughing so hard at my own joke, and Shiraishi sinking further into the couch, and getting closer and closer to me with each exhausting burst of laughter. And I let him. When his forehead was resting on my knee he made a joke about getting carpel tunnel in his wrist from the golden gauntlet and I laughed so hard I kicked him in the jaw. And somewhere in the middle of sitting up to apologize but trying to be quiet and between the hand gestures and the nodding and the whispered apologies I found his face so comfortably close to mine.

And this time, when I started tugging at his hair and pulling him on top of me and grabbing at the collar of his shirt, this time he kissed me first.


	8. Afterglow

Afterglow

I heard the light click on before I saw the warm glow behind my eyes. And in those short seconds I heard my dad's footsteps and whispered those faithful words: "Shit, my dad."

In the years past, and in the years to come, I could not foresee seeing another person move as fast as Shiraishi did. He woke up, rolled off of me, hit the ground, spun out of it with bizarre grace, and stood up in less than two seconds. I sat up, groaning because the metal of my bra was stabbing me in the side, pushed up my chest, right were Shiraishi had left it.

"Daughter, why is there a stranger in your bed?"

"Morning Dad." I pulled myself up off the couch, almost falling back down when I felt the numbing ache in my knee. "Um, my friend didn't wanna go home so I told her she could stay here."

My dad was a strange guy. He had the common sense of humor that most dads have. He was tired all the time, hated his job, tried to get my little sister to like him, tried to listen to my mom whenever she talked, tried to make me laugh as much as he could. But he had as much patience as anyone when it was six in the morning.

"And, this is my friend Shiraishi."

Shiraishi gave the saddest wave I had ever seen. "Hi—I'm sorry, nice to meet you. Sorry."

My dad and I gave simultaneous eye rolls before he turned around, back to the light of the kitchen. I watched him open the fridge, take out the lunch he had made for himself the night before. We all just sort of stood there in silence because I could tell Shiraishi was too scared to even look at me. I ran my fingers over my knee, feeling just how far the bruise from Chitose's bathroom tile had spread. My dad put his lunch in his lunchbox, stretched, filled up a water bottle, filed his way into the entryway, put on his shoes, jacket and gloves and then backtracked to the living room where Shiraishi and I hadn't moved.

"You should make breakfast for your mother," He said. "Get your homework done and make sure your sister does too." And with that, he left, leaving about five solid seconds of silence in the air before both my hands were on my face.

But surprisingly, it was Shiraishi that imploded first. "I need to fix this," He said. "Parents love me."

"Ok, ok," I said, moving around the couch and into the kitchen where I pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and drank form it.

"You don't understand," He said, dropping himself on the kitchen table. "_All_ parents love me. I am the best at first impressions."

I nodded around the orange juice.

"I bombed."

"Calm down," I said, rubbing all the sleep out of my eyes. I pushed my knee up against the small island in the middle of the kitchen—much less glamorous than the one in Chitose's house—and rolled up my jeans. The dark purple of smashed blood trapped under my skin had spread over the entire surface of my knee. "Oh man…"

Shiraishi lazily got up from the table, and it made me mad because somehow he was still hot, messy hair and that one crack in his dry lips in all. "What happened?"

"Oh I just slipped in the bathroom last night."

Shiraishi inspected my knee from the across the bridge of my leg. "Looks like it hurts," He said.

"Well it really does."

I was about to do something stupid when I heard the gentle buzzing of a phone. "That sounds like mine…" Shiraishi pulled himself away from my bruised knee and wandered back over to the couch. He dug around in the cushions while the buzzing persisted. I watched him run his hand through that stupidly perfect hair of his as he flipped it open. "Hey, hey sorry I just woke up…No. Shut up….No we don't have practice. The regulars don't do weekends…I know…You're home? You must have…Oh…On the train? Yeah who…Well yeah I gave him my number…but Kenya…"

I hadn't seen this before. Shiraishi was nervous. Not the nervous I liked, like last night or this morning, but like _adult nervous. _Like the nervous that comes from responsibility. Kids weren't supposed to know about that yet.

"Yeah I'll call Yanagi a little later…no can't right…alright…yeah it's fine…see you later."

He stood there, staring at his phone like he had no idea what just happened. And I knew the look on his face and I hated it, so I did the only thing I knew how to do: pretend it didn't exist.

"You can go, if you want to. But if you don't want to go right now, I'm going to make my mom some breakfast, and I would really like your company. Plus I have to wait for Yukari to get up and that will be its own adventure."

Shiraishi put his phone in his jeans pocket and he tugged his large sweatshirt over his head, tossing it on the couch. "Alright," He said, what are we making?"

It turned out that Shiraishi had excellent time-management skills. He knew exactly when to put the eggs on the stove in relation to the bacon, and how long to put the toast in the toaster for optimum golden crunch. He even suggested leaving some bacon for Yukari because apparently excessive fat is good for hangovers? I didn't know. But I loved every second of it. I loved dropping little pieces of eggshell into the frying pan and watching him try and pick them out. I loved eating the toast on purpose to try and throw off his rhythm. I loved when he used a small spoon to catapult raspberry jam at me. I loved watching him steal pieces of the banana as he cut it into small, perfect pieces—which was weird because I hate the smell of bananas.

"I hate the smell of bananas."

"Do you hate eating bananas?"

I shrugged. "I don't mind the taste as much as the smell."

I watched him eat another piece. "Is it not the same?"

"No," I said, "it's different."

My mom usually got up at seven, when she could, so we were eerily on time. What wasn't on time, however, were the footsteps thundering down the stairs. "Hisae! Hisae!" My sister spun around the corner, "You have to hurry mom is having one of her—" Airi's face fell into a half-smirk. "Hisae, why is there a strange girl in your bed and who is this? And what are you doing? Did you make breakfast?"

"Not for you, dipshit. And this is my friend Shiraishi. And why does everyone think it's okay to just go into my room?" I grabbed the plate that Shiraishi had laid the food out on, beautifully. "Sorry, just give us a minute," I nodded back at him as I pushed past my sister, kicking her in the back of the leg to get her to follow me. We bolted up the stairs, our feet synchronized. "Alright, what level are we?"

"Level eight."

"How much time before she leaves for work?"

"Thirty-nine minutes."

"You get clothes out of the dryer. Get the green cardigan, gray skirt, white blouse and iron them in the bathroom."

"I can be done in fifteen?"

"Beautiful."

We high-fived, going our separate ways, her to the laundry room, and me to the darkness of my mother's bedroom.

I took a breath, knocked on the door with my free hand. And when I didn't hear a response, I wasn't startled; this was a level eight after all. Inside it was almost completely dark, save the small rays of light peeking around the curtain. I saw my mom's shoulder rise and fall with her breath. "Mom? Mom I made you breakfast…" No response. I carefully stepped over the clothes that lay useless on the floor, towards the window. Carefully, I pulled open the dark purple curtain. My mom was awake. I could see her watery eyes blink in the barely-there light. I put the plate on her bedside table. "Mom, please. You need to eat. You need to go to work…Mom…"

But she didn't move. She just kept breathing and blinking and crying.

"Mom, it's been three days. Please at least eat. Please at least sit up…Mom this is what happens when you stop taking your medication. This is how shitty you feel. Why did you do it? Airi is ironing your clothes. I can call the office and say you're running late but you have to do this. _Mom _you will feel better if you eat."

I flung the curtain all the way open, flicked on the light switch and slammed the door shut. Airi stuck her head out of the laundry room.

"It's a no-go," I said.

"This is the fourth day…"

"I know."

I turned and descended down the stairs, slowly this time. I had Yukari in my bed. I had my ten year-old sister ironing my mother's clothes. And I had the kindest person I had ever met waiting downstairs waiting for me and suddenly I didn't want any of it. This was a constant state of adult nervousness. And this was my life. And right now I didn't want it.

The kitchen had lost its luster. I made my way over to the sink to pour myself a glass of water. As I leaned against the sink and drank, I accidentally made eye contact with Shiraishi, but he looked deep in thought. "Do you want to be just friends?" He asked.

"What?"

"I mean, I don't mean to sound childish or, whatever, and I'm sorry I sprung that question on you before about dating, but I feel like now might be a good time to…I don't know, take stock of where we are? I mean, I could be all in, but it's like you don't even notice when people are really happy, you only notice when they're sad or," He gave a nod that I assumed was meant for Yukari, "or mad or whatever."

And that's when I said the worst possible thing I could have said: "I hadn't really thought about it."

It was the worst kind of surprise for someone like him. When he is being considerate and the other person just throws it back in his face.

"Do you want me to leave?" He asked.

I ran my fingers through my hair, contemplating whether or not to pull it out. "N-No, I've just been a little preoccupied with school and track and stuff and I don't mean to make it seem like I've forgotten because I really haven't…" I took another swig of my water and stared down into it. "Kenya told me that if I didn't know the answer now then he didn't know what I was doing but I mean, I don't even know what I'm doing. But I mean I think that's okay. I think I like us. I _know_ I like you and I don't like change and I—"

"Hisae?"

A very exhausted-looking Yukari stumbled down the stairs, holding her head. Her dress now looked worn-out, her make up was no longer half tears as it had dried around her eyes.

"I am so hungry. My head is killing me and my mouth is _so_ dry…" She abruptly stopped. "Oh, hey…did I…"

"Bathroom is to the right of my room, painkillers in the cabinet above the sink. And I don't have a spare toothbrush but there is mouthwash."

"No it's fine, I'm gonna head out, I have ah…I should be getting home."

I watched Shiraishi get up. I watched him pick his sweatshirt up off the couch. I watched him check his phone again. I watched Yukari's face melt. I watched my water bounce in the cup. And I watched him give a sad nod, and I watched him leave and I didn't say a thing.

After a phone call from her parents, Yukari left soon after. She didn't take any of the extra bacon, but she gave me a strong hug. "You saved my life," She said.

I knew my sister wouldn't come out of her room until I went and got her so I ran the leftovers up to her room. Then I ran back down and got my phone off the floor, with its no text messages and no missed calls and I sunk down into the couch and called Haruka. When she didn't answer, I took a breath for the answering machine.

"Hey, it's me. I ah, you were right about Yukari but she is home safe so…Man I really think I fucked up this time. I don't think Shiraishi is ever gonna talk to me again and…and I'm just really mad and I want to talk to you. My mom…my mom can't leave her bed because she is so _fucking_ bi-polar and I…Haruka she can't get out of bed and I don't know what to do. I don't wanna turn into her so—"

That was all the time I had.

* * *

I went to buy cigarettes for the first time in my life. It didn't make me feel good but I got a little light-headed and calmed down. With my phone fully charged and my lungs both bewildered and hurt, and an invitation from An to hang out with some of her Seigaku friends. It was a long way to Tokyo but I wanted to get as far away from where I was as possible. And then I saw An waiting for me at the subway station with a large picnic basket.

"Was I supposed to…"

"Oh no," An grinned, "we are going apple picking."

"Is that a thing that real people do?"

Her laughter was like a beautiful mineral waterfall over rocks riddled with mica. "It's not just for families of four who all wear vest and plaid and have a golden retriever."

We waited for the subway, talking and laughing like an hour ago I hadn't felt like shit. "Thanks for texting me," I said.

"Oh, I'm just glad you answered. Being the only girl gets exhausting. I'm surprised you were awake so early though."

"Me too."

I heard the rush of the subway, the air crashing all around us as it rocked to a stop. I was about to step forward when An grabbed my arm. Something was wrong. Her fingernails dug into my wrist as she stepped back, "No…"

Looking up, I saw a familiar face. The face of the boy I had seen in this very station the morning of my run. Only this time a large bruise ran from under his left eye and merged into a split lip. One of his eyes looked bloody from a crushed blood vessel, the other eye looked wild and dangerous.

I let An pull me back, but I know the boy had seen us. "It's okay," I said, "the next one comes in ten minutes." I moved her through the crowd to a bench with a cornucopia of gum stuck to the bottom. I sat down next to her. And I didn't say anything until most of the people had cleared away and the subway pulled out. I wasn't going to ask her about it, but I wasn't disappointed when she took a deep breath.

"I'm ah, I'm sorry. I just…that guy. I know him and I still can't...He's just a bad guy."

"Okay."

"I just, didn't think I would run into him. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I said, remembering that I cowered behind a water fountain while I eavesdropped on Chitose and Tezuka. "If it gives you bad vibes, run the other way man."

An let out a snort. "You talk like my boyfriend, _man_."

"Yeah, _dude_."

The next train came in no time.


	9. Seigaku

Seigaku

"The farm is sort of out in the country a bit so they are gonna meet us on the express, yeah?"

"Okay," I said, trying to relax into the seat. "I actually have no idea where we are or where anything in Tokyo is, so I will be of little help."

An waved my comment away, "I am a walking map of Japan, if I do say so myself."

"People with maps still get lost," I pointed out.

"Two more stops."

I don't know what it is about tennis players, but they were always easy to identify. I don't know if it's the staggering athleticism they all have, or that most of them are like six feet tall, but it might also have something to do with the fact that they brought their tennis rackets everywhere. And by everywhere, I mean _everywhere_.

"What did I say Takeshi? _What_ did I say?"

A very tall boy with even taller hair and startling purple eyes grinned apologetically. "Sorry, sorry, but the new courts in that park with the creepy fountain just got re-done and…you know…we wanted to try them out. After apple picking, of course."

An's playful anger dissipated as she heaved an enormous sigh before flinging herself into the boy's arms. It was too cute, but it only lasted for a second as An jumped back, grabbing my hand. "This is Hisae, the only person who talked to me at practice. Now she's stuck with me."

I felt the heat rush to my face and I tried to smile around it.

"Hisae, these are the guys who would rather play tennis then hang out with us. This one is my boyfriend…the rest of you, this is Hisae Sumeragi."

No one had ever made being my friend sound so good. I didn't really listen to An introduce the cute redhead: Eiji Kikumaru, the delicate one with a pretty smile: Syusuke Fuji, and the one with the bad haircut named Suichiro Oishi. Could it be that I could be friends with these people? That maybe people wanted to be my friend? An certainly made me feel like I was on top of the world. My body, however, wasn't as confident as my mind so I just kinda stared at the ground and hoped I wasn't being weird.

Once we boarded the express, I found myself pleasantly trapped between An and the redhead, Eiji, who apparently could not sit still if his life depended on it.

But none of them stopped talking.

"And Viper hasn't changed now that he is captain and all. Apparently Coach didn't think I was mature enough. I am totally mature enough, I am!"

"Momo," Fuji laughed, "you still have Buzz Lightyear toothpaste."

Momoshiro made a hushing gesture that only made An laugh harder. He shrugged it off, laughing at himself too.

"And do you play tennis too, Sumeragi?" Fuji asked from across the aisle. "Or…judging from your expression, no, and you are sick of hearing us drag on and on about it, ah?"

"No, no," I said, "I do track—sprinting. But I get all the tennis I need from…" Shiraishi. "From Shitenhouji."

This somehow brightened everyone's mood.

"How are those fuckers doing?"

"Are they still as hilarious as they were at nationals?"

"I-I don't know…" As a matter of fact, I didn't really know anything about them. I hadn't been to a single tennis match. I didn't know what it looked like then they played. Maybe that was the very first mistake I made with Shiraishi. Nervously, I checked my phone. No messages.

"Hmm…I would very much like to play against Shiraishi again…" Fuji said it more to himself than anyone else, but I still heard it.

I didn't say much else for the rest of the ride. In between Eiji's unconscious elbow jabs and An running her thumb over Momoshiro's palm, I couldn't find much to say. But somewhere after Oishi asked me what I wanted to study and Fuji looking at me like he knew something I didn't, I decided to forget about Shiraishi for today. I would have all the fun I could today. I would forget about my mom and my sister and cross that bridge when I got back home to it.

Instead, I tried to pay attention to the little things that were good right in this moment. Like when Eiji would rub his knee against Oishi's when a good song came on the ipod they were sharing. Or that Fuji kept stealing smiles at Momoshiro who kept pretending to ignore them so he could try and listen to the story An was telling about her brother. I put my phone in my pocket and let the ride continue in peace.

"How is the kid doing?" Eiji asked, leaning over me to get to Momoshiro.

Momoshiro burst into laughter, "Oh man, the kid is a piece of work. He and Viper get along really well though. He's still an asshole."

"How is the, ah…Ryuzaki situation going?"

Momoshiro groaned, "Same as ever. I swear…"

I liked listening to stories about people I didn't know. I liked imaging their lives and intricacies and faults and realized that I also liked watching Fuji react to those stories. He didn't really ask questions but he had a million different smiles for a million different people. And as the express powered through a field, I noticed that I had forgotten how long we had even been riding it.

The stop we got off at was more like a concrete platform in the middle of the flattest expanse of land I had ever seen. But as we trekked down the dirt road we came across a small farm. There was a parking lot filled with cars and yelling children but beyond that was a stand where a bored-looking girl was handing out baskets and collecting money. An darted ahead of us, giving the girl some money and explaining that we already had a basket. She came bounding back to us, "Be free, my boys. Go forth and conquer."

An and Momoshiro sort of split off, between the scattered trees, not in a selective, untouchable way but I understood. I liked tripping over potholes in the ground by myself as I found my first tree. I looked around to see Eiji already at the top of one, tossing apples carelessly over his shoulder and Oishi struggling to catch them.

"I have a friend who is a bit of a stalker."

I turned around, mid-reach for an exceptionally red apple. "Huh?"

"I'm just interested in knowing what kind of girl Shiraishi likes," Fuji shrugged.

I jumped, grabbing the apple, "When you find out, let me know, yeah?"

"I don't mean to be intrusive," Fuji said, holding up his hands like he thought I was going to fight him. "And it will stay between us."

"And your creepy friend."

"And my creepy friend."

I decided to bite into the apple instead of saving it. "Alright, let's compromise. I'll be an open book if you tell me about Chitose and Tezuka." It was one hell of a leap. But I wasn't often in the company of outsiders.

Fuji took a step closer, looking down at my selected apple. "You have a good eye," He said.

A couple trees away, Eiji and Oishi had gotten into an apple fight, and Eiji had accidentally hit a little girl in the back. As we moved away from the sounds of Oishi trying to calm a pair of angry parents, I took another bite. "Did they use to date?"

"Eiji and Oishi?"

"Tezuka and Chitose."

Fuji stopped to inspect a sad-looking tree. I watched him push leaves out of the way and stand on the tips of his toes to pluck a small, bruised apple from the branch. "Yeah, yeah they did. But I guess I need to take some credit for meddling in that."

"That's a shitty apple."

"I guess I waited too long, or something? I was selfish but I always thought Tezuka and I would end up together. Isn't that the weirdest relationship to have with someone? To almost date them? To imagine a relationship that wasn't there because you were too far in your own head…"

I took another bite of my apple, and wondered why Fuji hadn't taken a bite of his.

"And I thought everything might change in our senior year but, but then Chitose came along and you seem to know the rest."

"I'm lying," I said.

"And then I got selfish," Fuji said, looking down at his sad little apple. "There is nothing quite like believing so completely that you have a right to someone else. It's truly awful."

I stopped by a tree, jumping up to snag another apple and putting it in the kangaroo pouch in my sweatshirt. I remembered I was wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

"And you?" He asked, still looking as polite and as interested as ever, "You seem to know more than you're letting on…"

"What do you want to know?" I asked as I got too close to the core. I spat out a seed.

"Something happened at the U-17 camp that has been bothering me, incessantly. I watched one of Shiraishi's matches. I hadn't paid those bandages any mind but…but to know that he would have played the entire game without removing that gauntlet—even when we were neck and neck…to know that he would have rather lost the match then take it off…to this day, bothers me to no end."

"Everyone is so obsessed with him," I laughed.

"Are you surprised? I love a good mystery."

I took out my second cigarette of the day. "I think mysteries are overrated. Maybe that's why we didn't work out. I'm inherently predisposed to giving up easily."

"So you did—"

"Again," I said, taking a drag so long I almost choked, but caught myself. "That strange space between being indifferent, and introducing him to my parents."

"You're funny," Fuji said.

"I am?"

"I like people who are either going to get everything they want out of life, or are about to kill themselves."

"That's dark."

"Humor is a funny thing."

"Did Chitose and Tezuka break up?" I asked, alternating between breathing in hot smoke and crunching down on a bitter apple.

I watched Fuji pick an apple off the ground. "It seems that was my fault as well."

I shrugged, "Well I mean I don't need to know about it. You don't need to tell a stranger all about your life, if that doesn't sound like fun."

Fuji bent a branch back, taking another apple. "I would hate to leave you without telling you everything you wanted to know. Especially if you intend to kill yourself later."

"I think I would rather get everything I want out of life," I said.

"Have you ever considered speech writing?"

As I pulled my sweatshirt closer around me, I realized that it was getting colder. I was going to have to start wearing layers. "What? No."

"I think I would like it," Fuji said, smiling sadly. "It would be nice to, for once, have planned out everything I wanted to say, instead of it just being a race to get everything out at once." He really was absolutely beautiful; one of those people that would always look good, or, maybe looked better the sadder they were. Which was pretty much complete bullshit.

Everyone was pretty much ready to leave in a little under an hour so we began to blob our way back to the parking lot, Eiji throwing apples at Momoshiro, Momoshiro trying to deflect the apples while still holding onto An's hand, Oishi got roped into carrying the basket of apples, and Fuji and I just tried to pretend it wasn't weird that our hands kept touching while we walked.

Since the express only came once every hour and a half, we took a different, shittier bus that Momoshiro assured us stopped near the tennis courts.

"If you could pass it on, I'm sure Seigaku would love to play Shitenhouji again sometime," Oishi smiled down at me, this time being the barrier between me and Eiji's elbows. "It would be nice to get the gang back together."

Despite how weird it was that he said "gang," I nodded and told him I would, even if I couldn't.

The park that they were talking about was actually pretty nice. Aside from that fountain that was probably supposed to be abstract but looked more like chlamydia in Technicolor. Which actually might have been on a plaque somewhere. Past the flowers arranged into shapes, and the children eating ice cream, and the elderly woman feeding pigeons, and the small pond, were the tennis courts. An and I took to sitting on a bench while the boys started. It was Fuji and Momoshiro against Eiji and Oishi. An told me the second team was called the Golden Pair because they were so good together.

So we sat, eating apples and watching Eiji do backflips and constantly high-five Oishi.

"Now do you believe me when I said tennis was a big part of my life?" An laughed.

I smiled at her. These people were a totally different kind then Shitenhouji. I couldn't really explain it. Maybe everything at Shitenhouji was a joke, or maybe Seigaku had grown up a little more. Maybe it wasn't any of that. Maybe it was me. Maybe after all the bullshit I had told myself about changing and trying to be a better person and making bold decisions, I was no closer to getting anything I wanted out of life. And maybe it didn't help that I didn't know what I wanted but I at least thought I would be able to try. Where had trying gotten me? Cleaning puke off someone else's bathroom floor, no text messages, half-assed friends who didn't answer my calls, and it sure as shit hadn't gotten me Shiraishi—"

"Hisae?"

I hadn't even noticed I was crying.

An spun me around so we weren't facing the game anymore. She pulled a tissue from her purse and I laughed because who actually carries tissues with them?

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry I just…" But I couldn't hold it in. The longer I marinated in this shitty feeling just made me more and more upset and mad at everyone, especially me. Because it really was all my fault. I was the one who couldn't say anything that I needed to, especially when it really mattered. I was the one who was fucking up every single good thing that came my way and turning it into this big, dark, shitty thing—

An took a deep breath and pulled me to my feet. She shouted something over her shoulder as she pulled me through the shrubbery and past the pretty flowers and I felt like such a stupid little kid as she set me under a tree. And I was cold and felt gross and I felt like if I opened my mouth I was going to vomit.

But she didn't ask me anything. An just sat in front of me and…waited. She didn't take out her phone, she just picked up a small dandelion and put it in my hair. I snorted. "There," She finally said, "now nothing else matters. And you don't have to tell me what's wrong, but if you don't, I will feel like I haven't done my job as your friend."

I wiped my face on my sleeve. "It's really not…It's…I keep…getting these chances to by happy, and I keep not taking them. And I think, sooner or later, my chances are going to run out and I can never make them last because I keep saying all the wrong things. And now…now Shiraishi is gone and…and everything I've done the last few years is…"

An smiled at me sadly, but there was a hint of pleasant surprise. "Shiraishi is really hot though."

I started laughing. I was laughing at how unfair everything was and how great An's facial expression was and how embarrassed I had felt. "It's so true though…" I gasped, in between hiccups and sobs. "And I was so close—_this_ close…"

"I think one way would be to, you know, make the grand gesture. Put all your cards on the table. But I also think that, maybe if you don't trust yourself, you can find little ways of letting someone know you care. And I think sometimes that can be better. And I don't think you're being fair to yourself if you keep telling yourself you are running out of time. So what, right? So is everyone else. I can see the merit in trying to, you know do that 'live every second like it's your last' kind of thing but I also think that's overrated. Because sometimes I don't want that pressure, I just want to do my own thing without worrying whether or not I'm gonna lose someone. And if that person really cares about you too, they won't let you feel like this one, single moment will be all you have."


	10. Far from the Tree

Far from the Tree

* * *

When it came down to it, I didn't have what it took to sit in my regular seat. Between Haruka looking great today and ignoring me, Shiraishi also looking great and not looking at me, and Fuji texting me: _Tell him I said hi. Seriously., _I didn't anticipate Kenya. He wandered in, a little late and saw me in my old seat—the one from last year. After a few awkward seconds of looking from my empty place next to Haruka and where I sat now, scared and by the window, he sat in his regular seat, but he put his feet up on the back of mine.

For hours I just stared at the back of Haruka's head. Had what I said been that uncalled for? That moment was the second realist moment of that night. I almost wasn't going to say anything at all, just let our friendship wither, but then I remembered Yukari, in her delirium, asking for a friend that wouldn't come. And that pissed me off.

I didn't take a single note that day. Was I overreacting? Was the first person that made me feel like I had a friend really so vapid? Was she not innately aware of the unfortunate things about herself—just as she pointed them out, carelessly, in others? She made me feel bad about myself, and I had spoken up. Had I been insensitive? Maybe she didn't know that some of the things she said were like pinpricks? Haruka was like that moment you looked into a bad mirror. You get all excited about how skinny your legs look, only to be reminded at every angle of an idea that you knew wasn't true but you saw right before you went to sleep that night.

The lunch bell rang and I saw Haruka stand up. Student council stuff? I shoved past the students as she disappeared out the door. I was losing her. Kenya tried to say something as I side-stepped him. I made the worst half-eye contact with Shiraishi as I ran out the classroom door. But he must have seen something in me because he jumped up after me. But in a moment of slow-motion, I kept powerwalking after Haruka.

She made it to the ground floor by the lockers before I called out to her. I heard Shiraishi come down the stairs after me just as Haruka whirled around.

Suddenly she was in my face. Angry, with angry skin and suddenly every angry muscle in her body.

"What's wrong, got something else to say?" She snarled. "Because now that you've gotten some, you think you're hot shit—"

"Haruka—"

"I thought you were different, you know?" She was so mad I and I almost knew why. "I thought we were so cool, independent and I didn't think you were one of those pathetic girls who change who they are completely just to be with a guy!"

"Haruka, I'm not—"

"But you are, you're desperate and you're crazy just like you're fucking mother. Guess the apple doesn't fall from the tree."

And then I felt every single muscle in my body synch up with every thought in my mind. I took half a breath, trying not to listen to whatever Shiraishi said behind me, but I took a step forward, and with all my weight and anger, put my arm up and threw Haruka into the lockers.

"Don't you dare say anything about my mother you mean, pretentious _bitch_."

The word hung in the air for the seconds that followed, when Shiraishi grabbed Haruka before she landed her hit and Kenya jumped down the main staircase.

"Holy shit."

There were people all around us. Haruka and Shiraishi jumped apart; maybe they were afraid of teachers, but I wasn't.

We were a plague in the hallway. Students didn't stroll between us as Kenya stood beside Shiraishi, a little unsure from the corner of my eye. Everything I saw, I saw in shades of Haruka. Until a teacher broke through the circle, "What is going on here?"

Her voice was like another bell.

The principal's office was on the second floor. I shook myself off as Kenya tried to talk to me. I pushed past him.

Focus on the floor, focus on the floor. Remove yourself from the situation.

I ran up the staircase, moving between the students who didn't know me, didn't care about me, until I saw the sign on the principal's door. I flung it open and stepped inside.

It was sort of like two offices combined. One for the principal's secretary, and then the actual office in the back. I felt like a criminal, turning myself in.

"Can I help you?" The pretty woman at the front desk asked.

"Yeah I just…" I struggled.

The teacher that had seen me shoved the door open, "Do not _move_," she spat. She ignored the secretary's confused question and disappeared into the principal's office. I took a seat in one of the small, but comfortable leather chairs along the wall. Within a few moments, the teacher emerged. She pointed a shaking finger at me, then at the principle's door. "Go. Now."

I did what she told me, all the anger had left my body and I felt numbly at peace. Even when I sat down in front of my principal, I couldn't stop staring at the snow globe on his desk. When my phone lit up, I finally realized I had been holding it.

_Haruka: tell them you slipped_

And that's when it hit me. Haruka was never going to see me as an equal, only a liability. If anyone thought that she had something to do with what happened, she might get kicked off the Student Council. I would get kicked off the track team. But if I slipped then…then nothing would happen. I would be toothless.

The principal looked at me, sadly. "Hisae Sumeragi, Miss Sumitomo said she saw you in a scuffle at with…ah…Haruka Minami…" I stared into the snow globe. _You slipped. _"I don't want to make you feel like you are just a number here. That's not what we're about here. And I'm not trying to intrude but if it's a problem—"

_You slipped._

"I was mad at her. She didn't do anything but I got mad and pushed her. It was all me."

I wasn't in the mood to fight anymore. I felt empty, but powerful. Until I left the principal's office to find Shiraishi pacing back and forth in the hallway. I checked my watch. "It's in the middle of third period."

"I—I wanted to…" He took a deep breath. "Look I went to see Haruka and she…she told me everything."

"Like wha—"

"Just, just let me finish. And I wanted to say that I'm so sorry—"

"You're—"

"Hisae, shut up, I had this all planned out."

"Sorry."

"_No_," He said. "I'm the one that…Hisae," He reached out like he was about to touch my hair or face or something but then pulled back like he was afraid to touch me. "I had no idea about, about your mom and…" I rolled my eyes. "And I thought that maybe it was me that you didn't like but…I never even thought that you might have actual more important things on your mind and that was selfish and I'm sorry. And I think what Haruka said was absolutely low and I think she really let you down. But that's not as important me wanting to be there for you—if you want me to. I mean, I mean you really are my friend."

I didn't know what else to do so I stumbled forward, wrapping my arms around his waist and pushing my face into his chest. "Thanks," I mumbled, pulling myself away and trying to fix my hair. "Ok…we should…"

But Shiraishi shook his head. He grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hallway. Up the stairs. Past our classroom—but carefully and quietly.

"Okay so where—"

"It's a surprise."

Well it wasn't a surprise after two more flights of stairs. To the right was the rooftop and I didn't know what the door to the left was because Shiraishi had opened up the door to the roof, letting in a gust in chilly air. "Well this is…" Then I saw the garden. Despite the clouds being overcast and the smell of rain in the air, I stared in awe of the rows of flowers and herbs. There was a rickety archway with a string of wilting, blue flowers weaving in and out of it. A few benches in between the beds and a couple watering cans. I loved it so much more than the park I had been to yesterday. Or maybe I loved Shiraishi more than I had yesterday.

"I would have started one, but I guess the school already had one…"

"You like flowers?"

"Anything botanical, yeah." He grinned down at me like we were about to enter an amusement park. "When I was younger, my grandfather used to have to this awesome greenhouse so I used to hang out there a lot."

"Okay, okay," I let go of his hand to make my way to the archway. "What are these ones?"

"Morning glories."

"That would explain why they looked so depressed."

"If you get here early enough, you can see them at their best."

He pointed out a few other ones, just because I asked. With every gesture, every new name, every _here smell this one_, it felt like he was letting me in, piece by piece and fact by fact. Like he was trying to show me new things so that I would have more to think about than the old things. Eventually we found ourselves lying on the icy ground, looking up at the tapestry of morning not-so-glories.

"An Tachibana took me apple picking the other day. She transferred here."

"Oh yeah? I think I've met her a couple of times. Back when we were a lot younger and she had the biggest crush on Chitose."

I laughed. "Yeah, she is dating a guy named Momoshiro now. I got to meet some of the team."

"They're good," Shiraishi said. "Real good."

"Fuji told me to tell you that he says hello. Oh, and that he wants to play you again."

"You met Fuji?"

I turned to look at him, "He's a weird one. But he is nice. They all are." I wanted to say more, but I didn't know if Seigaku was a sensitive issue. "Would you have played the game without taking the gauntlet off? Even if it meant losing?"

Shiraishi held his hand up, fluidly moving his free knuckles. "I used to forget sometimes that I was even wearing it."

"Why don't you keep wearing it?"

The look I hate came back across his face. It was like he had made the biggest mistake of his life and would never let himself forget it. "Because it has no power anymore."

It started to rain.

Chitose and Kenya didn't say anything to me when we all got on the subway together. But I sat next to Kenya because he seemed safer than Chitose who had a sour look on his face that I assumed was directed at me. I thought I was going to enjoy the whole ride in awkward silence, but then from across the aisle, "That was a stupid thing you did."

"I got kicked off the track team," I said.

"Dude, let's just drop it."

Chitose let out a snort, "I don't know what happened between the two of you, but you didn't have to fight her."

"It wasn't much of a fight," I chirped.

"I don't care what you want to call it. You don't ever have the right to someone else and you sure as shit don't have the right to use violence. She was your friend and big fucking deal, so what if she made you mad. You don't get to do that."

"Let's not—"

"Let's not _what_, Kenya? Am I wrong?"

I hadn't seen Chitose this dark since the day in the restaurant.

"And I thought maybe you weren't weird anymore but I guess I was wrong about that, Brainchild. You're still on another planet."

"Senri—"

"Why is it…" I took a deep breath and thought that maybe I wasn't prepared for this, "why don't you like me?" And then I realized I had waited far too long to ask that question. And I realized that we were at Chitose's stop, and that I may never get an answer. Certainly not tonight.

When he got off the subway, Kenya let out a breath I hadn't realized he had been holding. "Man you've got balls."

"I just…want to know, is all. It's not like I lay awake at night wondering how I can make people like me. But if I did something wrong…I just want to fix it." I looked up at Kenya. He was smiling shyly at me.

"You're alright, you know. I think it's just…Chitose really likes Kura, yeah? Like he's mostly to thank for Chitose even coming to Shitenhouji. And, and we all sort of were worried that you were gonna take him away from us—like in a selfish way. But you haven't. You really haven't. We just have to get used to sharing him with yet another person, you know? And I think that with Haruka…he's is just going through a bad place. His last best friend, Kippei Tachibana moved back and they had a falling out and he is just really messed up when it comes to his own, personal concept of friendship."

"I didn't mean for you guys to think that…"

"I know," He said. "I know that now. I guess I should thank you. Kura was real depressed after we got back from U-17 and I think you made it a little bit better."

"What? Sorry that's—"

He leaned closer to me, "Don't tell, okay? I'm only telling you because I know it will mean something to you." He turned his whole body towards me, like he was telling me a dark secret from his past. "So, you know about Kura's match at U-17 when everyone found out about the gauntlet, right?"

"Yeah—"

Well…okay, backtrack to the beginning of our third year when Kintaro joined the team. Well, this kid is great, really great, but sometimes…he is really bad with tests. He almost didn't have the grades to stay on the team. And Shitenhouji wasn't a bad school but, you know he was bullied and teased and it was shitty for him. So Kura tutored him. He knew that Kintaro and everything he brought to the team was so essential that he gave up so much of his time and energy to help this kid…And they're really close, you know? But the kid, he is so gullible. We made a joke that Kura has poison under the bandage. And it was a joke, but it sort of kept Kintaro from getting too out of hand. But the thing is, even Kura went along with it because sometimes the kid is so exhausting. But after the match, everyone, even the ones who didn't know, found out about the gauntlet. And Kintaro got real mad and…and he said that Kura had been the only one who had never made him feel stupid but that the whole time we had just been laughing at him—which we kind of were but…but he hasn't talked to Kura since and...I'm trying to get Zaizen to help him but it isn't the same."

I couldn't look at Kenya anymore so I just stared at my hands. I felt like I was with An in the park all over again. I felt like I was going to cry if I didn't say something. "He told me we were friends," I said. "And, and everyone has made me feel like this is a big deal but in reality…in reality he doesn't tell me anything. I don't think…I don't think I'm helping him at all."

"Dude," He said, "I've been his best friend for years and to this day, it's still like pulling teeth. But…" He looked more relaxed now, like he was a little proud of me and I let myself breathe. "But between you and me and Kintaro, I think we're making progress."


	11. Mangos

Mangos

The next few weeks passed with obscure ease. It wasn't like people were afraid of me—more like they wondered what had sparked a change, and wanted a piece of it. It didn't help that Haruka switched out of our class. Rumors spread like a venereal disease and the strangest thing happened: people knew who I was. But between dry-heaving in the bathroom stall and Shiraishi and Kenya cornering my desk by the door, I was getting better at looking strangers in the eye. I was getting better at walking in a straight line and I was almost learning the song that Kenya tapped into my chair every day.

My mom started going to work again. As simple as that, one morning she just got up and went, then came home at exactly five-thirty and inquired as to why I wasn't at track practice. I told her I didn't want to do it anymore—that my splints hurt too much but that I would find something else to do.

I thought about that conversation as I sat on the bleachers of the tennis courts at the all-boys school a half-hour away from Shitenhouji, with Fuji on my left and An on my right, Momoshiro next to her and An's older brother next to Fuji. It was a break, but Shitenhouji would be starting in a few minutes. I looked around in the crowd for Chitose, but couldn't find him.

"I'm gonna get some water before the match starts," I said. "Does anyone want anything?"

"Do you want me to go with you?" Fuji asked.

"No, I'm good, thanks though."

I stepped over my seat, carefully weaving between aisles and legs until I got to the top of the amphitheatre-style bleachers. The campus was a lot more traditional than ours, with sharper hedges and even the name of the academy spelled out in tulips. There were walkways branching out in every direction and if I hadn't caught a glimpse of the vending machine on our way in, I would have never found it. I had to go all the way around to the other side of the courts were the machine and some benches and courts reserved for trustees and parents and alumni were.

"Mango juice, huh?"

"I wish our school had it. I wish our school had vending machines." I turned to Chitose, nodding at Zaizen behind him. "No Kintaro?"

Zaizen shook his head. He had gotten gentler over the years. He wasn't as weird as the other people on his team but I watched him try and make an effort to be more inclusive and less harsh with them.

"Did you just get here? We're sitting by—"

Chitose groaned. He took a step closer to me and I suddenly noticed that he must have been seven feet tall. He was glowering over me like a hyena. "You think I haven't seen you already? Fuji ruined my relationship…" He braced himself against the vending machine. I was trapped. "Granted, it wouldn't have lasted but god damn, it distracted me from the fact that my best friend fucking blinded me. Do you understand, Brainchild? I have no one to fuck, and I'm going blind in one eye. And you want me to come and sit with them? You may be an excellent lair but I am not."

I felt the sun on my face when he moved away. I heard the sound of his feet on the pavement. I saw the lines of the horizon blur before my eyes. But when I tried to gasp, no air came in, it only escaped. I put my hand on my chest. "Hey…" Inhale. Exhale. I could feel my heartbeat in my eyes and in my throat and every muscle in my body felt like it was on fire.

I wasn't breathing. I wasn't breathing. And the rest of the world was gone. The only thing that was there was my ribcage, trying to tear itself from my body—

Zaizen plucked the bottle of mango juice from my crisp fingers. In what felt like slow-motion, I watched as he got closer and closer to my face. Then his hand flashed before my eyes and over my mouth so fast I stopped breathing. I felt the entire world pulse into focus as I slid down the vending machine.

Zaizen crouched down in front of me, unscrewing the cap of the bottle. But instead of handing it to me, he took a sip himself.

"Ok that's mine actually…"

"Have you ever had an attack before?"

"Give me back my juice."

He handed it back, gingerly. "A panic attack. Have you had one before?"

"That's none of your business."

"Hundreds of thousands of people have some form of anxiety disorder. If left untreated—"

"I know—I know. It's just…you can't tell anyone. It's not an injury, it's not a terminal disease. I get anxious sometimes, I don't move from hospital to hospital. I don't breathe through a tube and all my organs are working perfectly fine so just don't'...there's no reason to make a big deal out of it."

My body wasn't a tense mess anymore, but all of my being was focused on the boy in front of me. The only person who knew about my issues was my sister, and even then, it had been four years ago when we went to my dad's office party and the room was too crowded and I had run out trying to breathe through my nose. But I wasn't okay with this. I wasn't okay with being afraid of the random things that were so hard to explain to people. I can't explain why I can't ask strangers for directions or speak in front of a crowd or talk in class or eat lunch alone.

I looked up at Zaizen. He looked concerned, even though I could count the number of times we've spoken on one hand. But then I remembered Chitose. I bolted up, falling back against the vending machine. Zaizen jumped up too, arms out like he was trying to cage and animal. "Chitose's gone," He said. "And there are a bunch of people here who think you're awesome."

I snorted, "I don't need you to tell me that."

A small smile found its way onto Zaizen's face and I realized how badly I needed to leave. He took the bottle of mango juice. "I'll consider this your thank you."

"You didn't get anything?"

"Nah I realized I didn't have any change."

I sat back down, breathing normally and missing my mango juice. Fuji leaned in, "Doubles two is your lovely, clingy couple. Singles one is the Oshitari. Doubles one is a pair that I do not recognize. Singles two is our Shiraishi, and singles one is the mysterious captain."

I wasn't really listening. I was trying to get a better look at An's brother. Chitose made him sound like a monster, but An was practically glowing at him. He had wild blond hair and fierce eyebrows but he looked peaceful. He looked sturdy and relaxed and sometimes even smiled at Fuji. But An seemed like a good judge of character and if he adored her brother, then so would I.

Yuuji and Koharu danced onto the court and Shitenhouji's side burst into laughter. Momoshiro slapped his knee, laughing, "Oh, man, I'm so excited."

"Momoshiro has been waiting for months for this," Fuji whispered to me.

"Shove it, cream puff."

The other team clearly weren't as enamoured with the jokes that Yuuji and Koharu were giggling. It was our serve, apparently, and as I watched Yuuji and Koharu dance around the court like the ballerinas they always dreamed they would be, I couldn't help but smile. I couldn't help but remember weirdly liking Zaizen's hand on my mouth. I missed my mango juice but the last fifteen minutes seemed like another lifetime. I didn't look for Chitose in the audience. After that, I didn't think about him at all.

Between Momoshiro shouting, An trying to calmly explain the rules to me, Fuji whispering creepy fun facts in my ear and the brother Tachibana just not talking, I found myself completely immersed in the game. They were in such control of the ball, all with the rotation of their bodies and the reflexes in their arms and the sharpness of their wrists. "This is so cool…" I said to myself. I watched the little yellow ball, barely visible to me from afar as it bounced from one side of the court to another in swift, beautiful angles. Sometimes it didn't hit the ground before the other team hit it. "What does that mean?"

"That's a rally," An said. "A sort of high-speed fight where it comes down to extreme reflexes."

"How good at you at geometry?" Fuji asked.

"Why?"

"Because angles are a large component of tennis. You have to know how to move your wrist and arm to get any geometric angle. And it doesn't stop there. The follow-through is almost as important because your body cannot stop moving. You always have to be in a place to get to the next shot. You have to take into consideration wind, the turf you're playing on…And if it's raining, the weight of the ball is going to change. And you have to think about all of this while living in the moment and while trying to dissect your opponent."

"Gross," I said.

We won the game. I didn't notice the score even though it was right there in front of me. Our side roared to life. We threw up our hands and let loose a Shitenhouji cheer that I didn't know. I watched our tennis team light up, hugging the awkwardly lopsided pair as they fist-pumped and high-fived.

"So what happens now?" I asked.

"We have to win two more matches," An said. "If Kenya and the new pair win, then it's over."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Kenya played completely differently than either of the doubles players. He was one fast motherfucker. The other guy was pretty good and he was larger and more muscular but somehow in a way that hindered him. Kenya looked so happy too, like a child when they get out of the car after a long ride. His reflexes were astounding and every time he made it to the ball on time I let out a gasp. "That one was so close!"

"He's fast," Fuji said.

"Remarkably so," came the deep voice of Kippei Tachibana from the far left. "I would guess he's a bit faster than Kamio."

"A bit?" Fuji asked.

I waved my hand at him, trying to make him shut up but Fuji only snickered at me. But I was having too much fun. My heart was pounding again, but not in a scared, birdlike way. I was feeling all of Kenya's anxiousness and the thrill of the game and the joy and his energy running through me. "Is it like this all the time?" I asked no one in particular.

"It is when you watch your friends play."

I looked up at An's brother. He looked kind of older now. Like he had seen some tough shit it felt like I was lucky he was even there.

"Except when you're so far away, the energy sort of becomes helplessness," An said. "You can only get so into it before you realise how far away you are."

It didn't really seem like Kenya was struggling. He was winning, and continued to score. He was returning shots and hammering them back but he was sweating a lot. But even I could see that he was having fun. He was thriving on every close return, every point, every layout. And he took that energy and won with it. when the referee announced it, Kenya threw his hands up in the air and practically jumped on Shiraishi, earning bows and kisses from Koharu and Yuuji.

"Do you know anything about Shitenhouji's doubles pair, Fuji?" Momoshiro asked.

"Ah, Inui's data is lacking, I am afraid, when it comes to high school stats."

"Hey," Momoshiro jabbed my shoulder with his finger. "Where are the other players?"

"What?"

"The ones from last year."

"Well Gin is focusing this year on his monk stuff—I heard. And Chitose…" I couldn't say it. I couldn't say anything about him, or he'd win.

"Aw man, so we are gonna have to face that weird kid again. Echizen isn't gonna enjoy this, he really isn't."

Even I could see the new doubles pair wasn't that good. They didn't have Kenya's energy or Koharu and Yuuji's style. They were clumsy. One was out of breath after two serves—he looked young and scared and the other looked older and mad. I could see Shiraishi talking to who I assumed was the captain on the side. The captain just kept scratching his head.

Halfway through the game we were losing. I began to secretly hope we did lose. Then I would get to see Shiraishi play for the first time. I began to lose interest. "How are Oishi and Kikumaru?"

"They are doing very well, thank you for asking," Fuji said. "We took Seigaku's team by storm. It won't be the same without Momo here, and Kaido and Echizen of course, but we will make it flawless."

"Wow, okay, thanks Fuji," Momo said under his breath and An laughed, rubbing his shoulder.

We lost doubles one, but no one really seemed to care except Shiraishi, from what I could see. He didn't look happy.

An pinched my knee when he walked onto the court.

"This is gonna be good, eh Tachibana?" Fuji grinned, and for a second I almost caught a glimpse of something malicious in that smile.

I clasped my fingers together, locking them between my knees. What do I do if he wins? What do I do if he loses? But he didn't look like he was going to lose. He looked like someone who could win this game in his sleep. And that's sort of what Shiraishi did.

"An immaculate strategy," Fuji said. "The elimination of unnecessary movements. Nothing he does goes to waste…what a guy."

I watched him play, listlessly. It was like he was barely moving, barely running. It was like he chose the shortest route to each point. He wasn't having fun. I wondered if this was what tennis was like for him all the time. It became evident that Shiraishi liked his friends a lot more than he liked himself. And that made no sense to me.

His opponent was running around the court like a madman, frustrated and confused. I was confused too. I didn't know how a person's body and mind could synch up to form a style that cut out excess energy—wasting nothing. As Shiraishi played, part of me thought about how long his arms and legs were an how bony his fingers were and how great his shoulder blades were, while another part realized that his way of life wasn't perfected yet. He didn't know how to cut out the baggage completely. Because I was here. He wanted me to be here. Eventually, when he got better at tennis, and saw the useless things in his life for what they really were, he would cut me out too. So when he won, like everyone knew he was going to, I stood up and cheered. I clapped, I smiled, I laughed.

* * *

_Review or don't review. I can't tell you how to live your life._


	12. That Girl

That Girl

I imagined this is what groupies felt like. And I realized that I wasn't opposed to it. I liked knowing things that other people didn't. I liked taking things for granted. I liked having things that other people wanted. But this is a dangerous place to be. You're sort of teetering on some invisible edge between total confidence and crippling self-doubt.

Except for this time I sort of went backwards. Because after the teams shook hands, and what felt like less than a second after that, a girl ran up to Shiraishi. A pretty girl. And she smiled and he smiled and the world almost collapsed. But then I noticed the crowds of girls around them. And I took a breath and held it. Shiraishi smiled, but waved his hands around and I didn't know what that meant but the girl looked a little put out.

We had to rush over to them before they got on the bus back to campus. But when we did it was like a firework—an understated one, but a firework none the less. Momoshiro used An as a human shield as Koharu tried to throw himself at him. Fuji sashayed through the bodies to get to Shiraishi and I just sort of stared at Kenya. "I saw Chitose," was all I said.

But something happened when I looked at Shiraishi. He looked away from Fuji for one small second but I caught it. And in that moment he knew that I knew about everything he felt. He knew that I knew that he didn't like the way he played tennis. He knew that I knew that he only played this way to win. And he knew that I knew that he wasn't having fun.

So I did what I do best. I ignored it.

And I moved past An and Momoshiro, Yuuji's and Koharu's overly dramatic spat, and I kissed Shiraishi. In front of the team. In front of the pretty girl. In front Chitose, I hoped.

"You're great," I said, stepping on his foot, lightly.

He smelled fantastic.

And at first he looked a little confused but it was most beautiful transformation I had ever seen when a smug smile spread across his face. He coughed, tugging on my hair a little bit.

"Typical…" Fuji smiled.

"I have to bus back, but we should hang out later," Shiraishi said, tapping his foot against mine.

"Yeah, yeah, for sure."

We said goodbye, basking in the glory of our friends before they left for their bus back home. I felt on top of the world.

"Looks like someone is a little more sure of herself," Fuji whispered next to me.

"Oh gosh…" I braced myself on Fuji's shoulder. "I can't believe I did that. I just…went for it. Oh man I'm _that girl_ that just does obnoxious things like that in public."

Fuji shrugged, "We've all been _that girl_."

"Somehow I feel like Fuji is always _that girl_," Momoshiro said. When Fuji turned to glare at him, Momoshiro hid behind An.

"Oh no," An said, "don't look at me."

We just got back on our subway when An informed me that she would be staying with Momoshiro tonight. Her brother got off the second we got back to Osaka, after a dangerous look at her. I wanted to ask him more about everything. I wanted to ask him why he hurt Chitose. I wanted to ask him why he didn't join our tennis team, but part of me felt like he had to remain a mystery. Like the universe was giving me only so many things to deal with at once. I couldn't even handle Chitose. Maybe I would never be able to.

I let the subway rock me into a trance wherein I just stared at Fuji's prefect fingernails. I was so focused on the immaculate edges that I missed my stop. One awkward goodbye later I found myself at a corner store, debating between cigarettes and chocolate. But since I was feeling in control of my life, I chose the chocolate.

As I peeled open the bar of chocolate in the middle of the sidewalk, I felt the complete opposite of how I felt earlier. Chitose's face felt even farther away, and not because it was like looking up at a giraffe. It was like that entire episode was just another dream that I barely remembered. And I wasn't embarrassed or angry anymore because it didn't even feel like me. It didn't feel like the girl who had a panic attack because a tall guy said something that sounded scary, and the girl who caused congestion on the sidewalk because she had stopped moving to shove chocolate into her mouth were the same person.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me out of my own inner conflict.

"Yo," I said around the chocolate.

"_Yo_ yourself," Shiraishi laughed. "Are you close to campus? I can come get you either way but—"

"Can you teach me how to play tennis?"

"Sorry?"

I took another bite of the chocolate bar. "I mean, I know you just spent the better half of your day thinking about tennis, worrying about tennis, and then you played tennis but…ah, you guys make it look like so much fun and—"

"Sure."

"Really?"

"Really. I mean I just got changed but—"

"Oh, like, don't worry I'm gonna be so bad you won't even break a sweat. I'll probably give up after like ten minutes anyway but…well okay that didn't come out right but you know what I'm saying…"

"Yeah, I know."

"I'm like fifteen minutes away but I also have to finish my chocolate bar…"

And so I munched on my chocolate bar as I turned the opposite direction, weaving in and out of boring-looking men in suits and rich-looking women in nice dresses. But every step felt like it was a step up a mountain. Or more like a nice hike. Because with a few hours to sunset, I saw the campus, shining like a beacon of not-light and understated warmth.

I stuffed the chocolate bar wrapper in my pocket when I saw Shiraishi waiting at the front gate. He was back in his school uniform and had showered and probably smelled just as great as he did when he was sweaty and he had his tennis bag over his shoulder and a plastic, grocery bag in the other. He smiled when I strolled up, licking my teeth to make sure there was no chocolate left in any crevices. "Now I know you just ate, but I also brought something…" He shook the plastic bag at me. "It's Chinese. I like Thai beer better but the homeless guy that Chitose bribes can't tell the difference."

"Are we allowed on the courts during the weekend hours?" I asked.

He handed me the bag of clinking beer bottles, taking out a ring of keys from his pocket, "Did I not tell you, I'm vice-captain?"

I followed him through the front gate. "Well this is a change then, usually don't you just get to captain?"

"Second year," He winked.

Who the hell winks anymore?

We sort of snuck around the archery club's shooting range, back around to the farthest end of the campus where the enclosed tennis courts were. We found our own, and Shiraishi set his bag down on the bench. He handed me a racket, "Use mine."

"Really?"

"Sure thing." He took out a second one, because of course the modern tennis player carries a second racket for any potential opponent. He also carried a bottle opener. "So each point, loser takes a drink?"

"Nope."

He laughed, opening up the two bottles seamlessly. "First you have to focus on the basics of movement. You have to build up endurance and work on simple stances and follow-throughs—"

"Teach me like you would have liked to have been taught," I said, taking a sip of my beer.

He could hit the ball with one hand, while managing to not spill the beer in his other. Which was super cool but also annoying. I had to leave my beer in the corner of the court where he promised not to knock it over and at first I laughed but then I realized that he really could knock it over if he wanted to.

Shiraishi served me the ball, gently and easily. "Just hit it," He said.

I swung at it, hitting the ball off the side of the racket and sending it into the corner of the net. After I caught up with the ball, I tried to serve it back. I smacked the ball into the ground, where it barely bounced at all. As I made my way over to the net, I picked up the bottle of beer instead. "So, this is actually really hard."

Shiraishi laughed again, "It's not so bad, once you get used to it."

But I didn't think I ever could get used to it. I tried to return his hit and every time, it went back into the net. I didn't have time to think about everything Fuji said you had to think about when you were playing. The last thing on my mind was rotation and spin and whatever the fuck else was happing to the ball. I was too focused on Shiraishi. The way he laughed when I made a dramatic lunge, only to miss the ball completely, or when I would try and serve and end up pulling a muscle in my arm.

After I finished my second beer, a miracle happened. The ball somehow found its way to the good part of the racket and soared over the net in glorious slow-motion. I threw my hands up in the air, about to let lose a war-cry like none ever heard before at this school when Shiraishi took one step to the left, and returned it in even more glorious slow-motion. It landed at the far end of my side, even farther beyond my reach.

"Now you're just making fun of me."

"Why don't I return every ball to you, and you can focus on your backhand?"

"What's a backhand?"

Shiraishi choked on his beer, so I considered it my victory.

We sat down on the bench, staring over the court as the sun began its decent and begun our third and final drink.

"I don't know, grasshopper, with more training, you could go pro."

"You're just saying that because you want to get me drunk."

"We'll do something more fun next time," He said. "I was just a little tired."

"Where is everyone else?" I asked. "Are you guys not celebrating?"

"It's not really the same, now that our team isn't really our team. I kind of wanted to do something, like take them out to dinner or whatever but I didn't want to make Chitose, and Gin, and Zaizen and…I didn't want them to feel left out. Or, I didn't want to leave them out. I still consider us a team…"

I knew then that I would never tell him how nervous Chitose made me, or that he needed to patch things up with Kintaro because I would never be on the same page as he was. He would always have this part of him that was the captain of Shitenhouji, and he would always have this part of him that would gladly sacrifice his love for this sport if it meant the rest of the team could feel validated and included. There was no way I was ever going to intrude on that.

"I should walk you home," He said, finishing his beer. "It's getting late…"

I stood up, collecting the bottles and dropping them, lifelessly into the nearby trashcan.

"Let me just lock my stuff up in the clubroom, yeah?"

"Yeah."

I thought maybe we were gonna fool around in the clubroom for a while but I knew Shiraishi was tired. I could see it in the slowness in his arms and back and the way he kept rubbing his eyes. He put his rackets in a locker and lumbered out, like the way my dad looked when he came home from work.

He gave me his uniform jacket, even though I didn't need it and we were on our way back. There weren't as many boring-looking men in suits or rich-looking women in dresses this time.

Suddenly he stopped walking, caught up in the flurry of his irritated eyes. "Sorry," He said. "Allergies."

"You're not helping them by doing that," I said. In one fell, not-dramatic-at-all swoop I grabbed his hand. I didn't know what it meant, or what he would think it meant, or what I _thought_ it meant, but I did it. It made my heart thump in the best way, and it also made me feel inexplicably calm, like for once I did the thing a normal person would do. I didn't say the wrong thing, I didn't fuck up something so simple and I felt like I could take on the world.

"Hey, I think—"

His phone rang. But this time, he looked a bit strange. Shiraishi didn't let go of my hand but his face changed when he answered his phone.

"Is something wrong…Are you…" He stopped walking, looking around him like we were about to get nailed by a sniper. "Are you alright? Akaya—"

And then he looked to our left, where there was a long crosswalk that spread over a triangle of driving lanes. But cars never drove slow through them. I saw the boy on the other side just a split-second after Shiraishi did. It was the boy from the subway. The boy An was afraid of. The bad one. And Shiraishi took a step in front of me just as the boy took a step into the street.

That's when I saw the boy's body turn from a solid to a liquid. I saw the bone in his leg as it hit the front of the car, bursting out of his kneecap. And I saw the elbows splay against the windshield. And I heard the crack of glass-on-bone-on-breaks and the flimsy spine twirl in the headlights.

Then Shiraishi was in the street, my hand still on his as the world fell into a vacuum.

I didn't see the man get out of the car but I knew there was no one around. I could hear Shiraishi in the background, trying to open the boy's eyes as he lay on the ground.

Then I let go of Shiraishi's hand.

I pulled him away from the body as the boy's chest heaved for air and blood came out of his nose. "Call an ambulance. Now." I looked at the driver as he waved his hands in the air.

"He didn't press the crossing button—I swear I didn't see him."

Irrelevant.

"Turn your emergency lights on," I said. "Stop traffic."

I stood over the boy. Most damage was done to the leg and hip. Compound fracture. Secondary damage was left shoulder and ribs and maybe a concussion. I knelt down, getting as close as I could to hear his breathing. Ragged, light, but there.

Shiraishi fell down beside me, still on the phone. "Yeah, yeah he's breathing but it's not—"

The boy reached up, blood bubbling from a twisted finger. His hand didn't make it to Shiraishi so I grabbed it.

"We can't move you," I said. I took off Shiraishi's jacket. I leaned over the boy, trying to get the jacket under his leg.

"Six minutes," Shiraishi whispered.

I pulled the jacket around the top of the compound fracture. "Keep your leg as straight as you can, alright?" I tied the long sleeves around the leg, pulling it tight.

Shiraishi had moved up, shining the light from his cellphone into the boy's eyes. "Akaya, can you tell me where you are?"

The boy nodded, but said nothing.

"An ambulance is coming, you just have to wait for about five more minutes, can you do that? Can you try and say something?"

The boy started choking, gasping in desperate heaps and pulls and it sounded like he almost said _Shiraishi_ but then a car sped by and didn't stop and I wasn't listening for anything except the ambulance.

"Hold my hand, okay? I need to you squeeze my hand as hard as you can, as hard as you can until the ambulance gets here, okay? Okay, Akaya?"

The boy was pale, almost as pale as the splinter of bone that tore through the skin just above his knee. And he was rigid, like his thin arms and I took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of blood and sweat. And I almost tried to hold Shiraishi's hand again, I almost tried to say something, but then I heard the soft, agonizing sound of a siren.


	13. Lola

Lola

I gave Shiraishi's bloody hand a squeeze.

"When I was like, nine or ten or eleven or something, I had really bad anxiety. Like, about really unrealistic things. I mean, at the time I thought it was completely realistic but, ah…I used to set an alarm, every night for three in the morning. I would creep downstairs and try not to wake the dog up. I would go and steal chocolate from the china cabinet. And I would go around and unplug all the appliances. Every lamp, the computer, the space heater, the coffee machine, the toaster, the blender…And every morning my parents would ignore it. Until my shithead sister made it a big deal. And apparently it was weird even though more fires are started by faulty wiring than lightening, cigarettes, any of it. But I couldn't sleep at night, you know? I kept thinking like, what if my house burnt down because the outlet that connects the can opener to the wall was a little bit broken. I thought about what I would take, you now, if I only had a few minutes to pick my most important possessions. But, you know, I couldn't do that so I just kept doing my thing. I woke up, I unplugged everything, then I went back to bed. Every night for three years. And I thought, wow this must be the scariest life can get, you know? Lying in bed, praying and hoping that everything you love doesn't go up in flames...But, I was wrong. The only thing scarier than fire is the moment when something terrible happens just out of reach. I'm…I'm really, really sorry."

We weren't allowed to ride in the ambulance, so we ran down the street, hollering for cabs that would take two bloody kids the hospital. We got there, finally, making the biggest scene we could. We weren't family, but we were the only ones there. And we waited. We waited for two hours in the room that was made for us, in bloody clothes without talking. Those whole two hours I spent thinking about Shiraishi's jacket, wrapped around that poor boy's leg. I didn't know how I was going to fix that. Why didn't Shiraishi carry allergy medicine with him? I also wondered about that.

Two hours and fifteen minutes later, I texted my sister to tell my dad the situation, and that I was fine. Twenty-two minutes after that, Shiraishi called someone I didn't know, then Gin. Then he sat back down and I told him my deepest, darkest secret.

Shiraishi held his hands together like he was afraid to get blood on anything else. He leaned in, lifelessly, collapsing on my shoulder.

I tried to move closer, tried to make him more comfortable. But somehow this moment was more intimate than any moment before it. More important than the first time I lifted up my shirt in front of him and greater than the kiss in front of all his friends. Because this time he was tired. And this time his eyes were hurting him. And this time he was covered in the blood of someone he cared about. This was real life, and this was real shitty.

Three hours and eleven minutes later, I hadn't moved and no one came to talk to us, and Shiraishi sighed into my neck, stretching himself awake. "I'm sorry, I—"

"I think, maybe, I'm gonna wash my hands."

"Oh," He sprang up, "did I get—"

But he couldn't finish the sentence. He just rubbed his eyes again.

"I'll be here when you get back."

I stood up, feeling my legs flex to life, painfully, beneath me. I followed the pictures of a little stick woman down a white hallway. My shoes made a gross, loud noise on the immaculate floor. The woman I ran into in the bathroom let out a scream when she saw me. I held up my hands, unblinking, unbelieving that I was this late to cleaning the blood out from under my fingernails.

Every inch of my palm was coated in pink bubbles as I pulled at my arm hair and dug into my freckles. The water at the bottom of the sink pooled red.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

I braced my hands on the side of the sink as I spat into it. My chest heaved and plunged but nothing came out. I heaved until my throat burned.

The woman that I had frightened had remained in the bathroom, anxiously waiting in the corner. She stepped forward, smiling sadly and left her bottled water next to me. Then she left.

I rubbed my nose and nodded after her.

One more look in the mirror. Fix your hair, fix your face, fix everything about you for this one moment.

I rubbed my clean hands over my sweater, which had a little red on it, but it was dried.

When I found the courage to step back out into the hallway, Shiraishi was pacing back and forth. There was blood on his perfect, white dress shirt and on his pants and on his shoes.

There was still blood on him. Holy shit.

I almost ran up to him, "Go wash up. I'll be here when you get back." He was so nervous and angry and sad that I took his elbows, as gently as I could. "Promise. I just swore at myself in the mirror. Do what you gotta do. I'll be here."

I tried to smile him off. I tried to be the person that was calm and kind and encouraging. I tried to be whatever he needed and whatever the best version of me was. Anything to hide the fact that the girl who had a panic attack when a tall guy stood too close to her was the same girl with effective reflexes in the moment of a car accident. I just wanted to be the same person all the time. The person that was subtly funny and sensitive and outgoing and considerate and reasonable. But they never coincided.

He mumbled something to himself as he nudged his foot into mine before heading down his own respective hallway.

I fell back into the weird orange-colored chairs. I stared at the double doors to the emergency room. They weren't moving. Would we even be able to get in to see him? Probably not, we weren't family. We weren't gonna get to see this kid until his family did.

I turned to the depressing vending machine and coffee maker in the corner of the waiting room. There was no one else there. I got a cup of coffee. It was awful.

The main glass doors slid open and two boys entered. The taller one, with what looked like the softest hair I had ever seen turned to me, "Excuse me, have you seen a guy, pretty tall, bandages—"

"Shiraishi?"

The other boy practically jumped forward. Somehow he looked even frailer than the boy in the hospital. He had a soft, intriguing face with contrasting, sharp eyes. There was something wickedly charming about his mouth, like he would tell me anything and I would probably believe it. But nothing about him seemed exaggerated, except the jacket that hung off his shoulders.

He leaned close enough to almost make me uncomfortable, "Are you, by chance, the one who saved Akaya's life?"

"What?" I pointed to the entrance, "No the EMTs and the nurses and doctors did. But we haven't heard anything in the last five hours so—are you his family? We don't know—"

"His teammates," The taller boy said. He turned to the other one, "Seiichi, I'm going to talk to the front desk."

The other boy nodded, looking entirely too pleased about something before turning back to me. He pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders. "I don't, I don't know how to say thank you for something like this. You shouldn't have had to go through that. Neither should Shiraishi, but," He rubbed his forehead, "but especially not you."

The boy came back from the front desk. "He's stable, but in critical condition. We won't be able to see him for a while. They don't have any of his records here so I got them to fax them over. Hopefully his parents will get themselves here as soon as possible."

"Hopefully?" The word came out of my mouth before I even thought it.

Just then Shiraishi stepped into the hallway. And something about the air in the entire hospital changed.

The taller of the boys sort of moved between us. "Shiraishi, I didn't think Akaya would so something like that. I didn't think he—"

But Shiraishi wasn't even looking at the boy talking to him.

"Don't worry, Yanagi," He said. But then he looked between me and the other boy—the one radiating power and a strange, condescending smugness.

The boy with the jacket stepped in front of me. Suddenly, like he was erasing me from the entire picture. "Akaya's parents should get here soon so, I know you're done _so much for Akaya_ already that if you need to—"

"If he wants me to stay, I'll stay," Shiraishi spat.

I hadn't heard anything like that before. I hadn't heard Shiraishi say anything with malice in it. Not ever. Something was wrong. Something that I was clearly not a part of was twisting and manifesting and I wanted to make it stop.

"Hey," The boy in front of me smiled, almost nostalgically, "I was just telling Renji, I had these two cats. And one of these cats was absolutely in love with the other one. She would follow her sister around, everywhere she went. And I thought, well, isn't that the sweetest thing ever? Foolishly sweet." He basked in the comfort of the jacket around him as he tugged on it again. "But the one cat started licking the other constantly. Kind of sick, because this poor cat was swallowing twice as much hair, all because she loved the other one so much. We tried to get the poor cat to stop, obviously it wasn't good for her. But she wouldn't stop looking after the other one. Then one morning we found that cat had died. She choked to death on all the hair that she had swallowed for her friend. She choked, alone, her lover nowhere to be found. It was tragic. But I can say with absolute regret that every time I look at you, I think of my poor Lola, and how her selflessness killed her."

This time, my whole body resounded the word, "Nope" before I even said it. I had jumped between Shiraishi and my least favorite person in the entire world and hurled my sour cup of coffee at the kid. I remembered what Shiraishi said about following through so I made sure to make a show of tossing the coffee cup to the ground at the guy's feet.

Then I reconsidered and thought about the poor hospital janitors so I picked it back up.

But then something even scarier happened. In the moment of silence, the coffee-covered boy took a dangerous step towards me, his eyes glistening. He reached out, snatching my empty hand. He gently pried it open, like he was reading my palm. He smiled to himself. "I am truly sorry if I upset you. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do."

_Nope._

I yanked my hand away as Shiraishi stepped closer to me. I felt him put his arm around me. I felt his breath on my neck.

"Alright," He said. "Thank you for getting the hospital to look into finding his parents, Yanagi. Yukimura," He turned to the other boy, as the boy licked the coffee off his fingers. "Akaya may never think of me as his friend. That's fine. I can live with that. But you, Yukimura, you had the chance to make his life so much better, and you didn't. And I may be like your cat, but you are a terrible friend, and you have to live with yourself for the rest of your life."

* * *

I didn't want to stop talking. But I didn't know what to say. "I kind of feel like you're waiting for me to ask you something, but I'm too scared of asking about the wrong thing so…if you want to talk about something, I'll do it. But I—you know—I don't ever say the right thing so I don't think I would be good at knowing when something is wrong so…so just say it, okay? If you're sad or angry or even if you are the happiest you've ever been—I really want to hear about it."

Shiraishi pulled me into a one-armed hug. I felt his lips somewhere on my head.

"Do you still do that thing with the outlets?"

I looked up at him, beautiful and tired and I wanted him to know that I felt like that poor cat too and that there was nothing wrong with him. "No," I said, "I have medication that helps my anxiety. I still worry about my house burning down, but the compulsiveness is gone."

"Thank you, Hisae."

I tied to crane my neck to see his face, but I couldn't reach.

"I'm so, impressed with you. You really did make a difference, back there in the street, and…and you threw coffee at Seiichi Yukimura. The newly crowned captain of Rikkai's high school tennis team. They call this guy the 'child of God' and you threw coffee at him." He was laughing a little, so even though he had his hand on my face I smiled around his fingers. "I'm blushing, you can't see me like this. But, as cool as that was…when you told that driver to turn on his emergency lights and...I've just, never thought a you were as great as you were in that moment." He lowered his hand and I stared up at him. "Now that I know Akaya is going to be alright—not anytime soon but I will be there to get him to a good place—now, now I can say with total confidence that, back there, and—and now, Hisae I'm in awe of you."

* * *

When I opened my front door, I stepped into a house of light. Every single light was on. I took off my shoes, squinting and grumbling and stumbled into the kitchen. My dad was sitting with a beer at the kitchen table. My sister was dunking a cookie into a glass of milk on the stool at the island. And my mother was painting her nails across from my sister.

They all looked up at me.

"Guys do you know what time it is?"

"Doesn't matter," My dad said, standing up, ignoring his beer and trudging over to me. For a second I thought he was mad, but then he flung his arms around me. "Jesus Hisae…I just…I would have come and gotten you…"

"It's okay, Dad. I needed to stay there. I wanted to stay there."

He clapped me on the back, then pulled away. "Then forgive us for staying up for you. We felt we needed to be here. I'll clean your clothes tomorrow so just leave them in the laundry room before you go to bed." He moved back to the table, picking up the beer and cleaned it out in the sink. "I'm off to bed," He announced. "Love you all."

My mother sat up, screwing her nail polish bottle back into place and blowing on her fingertips. Once my dad was out of the room she sighed, admiring her handiwork. "If nothing else, you can say I taught you how to react under pressure. Fast thinking is the only kind of thinking." She stood up, moving to kiss me on the cheek. "My love, I am so proud of you. You don't need to join another club if you don't want to."

Then she left and I just stared at my sister.

"Did the guy die?" She asked.

"No," I said.

"Was there a lot of blood?"

"Yeah."

"More than…"

"Yeah."

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"I don't know, Airi."

"I'm really glad you're okay."

I rubbed my eyes, moving around the island. I pulled her closer to me, kissing the side of her head. "Get some sleep, alright?"

She pulled away, "Hisae, I'm sorry I told Mom and Dad I was just worried and I thought it was bad and I didn't know what to do—"

"No, no," I said. I sat down next to her, plucking a cookie from her plate. "You did the right thing, thank you."

"There's a girl at school who is getting bullied and I don't know what to do. None of the other girls talk to her. Whenever she tries to talk, no one listens and I don't know what to do. And it's sad because last year, all the girls wanted to be her friend because everyone had a crush on her brother but now…now it's like they all don't even see her." Airi started to cry. "And I want to help I really do, but I don't want them to start ignoring me and it sucks and every day I sit back and I watch her and she doesn't get to say anything. She doesn't talk for the entire day and everyone is so mean…"

I ate the cookie in one bite. I thought about this Yukimura, and I thought about my mother and I thought about Chitose and I looked at my sister. "Fuck _everyone_. And don't be mean. Don't be mean to anyone, ever."


	14. Be brave

Be brave

The one called Renji Yanagi would text Shiraishi whenever the hospital was not occupied by the Rikkaidai tennis team. Shiraishi would go to the hospital every day after tennis practice, and every weekend. I would wait in the waiting room, eating pretzels. I never went into Akaya Kirihara's room. Sometimes Kenya and Gin would sit outside with me. Sometimes it was Koharu and Yuuji. I guess it was never Kirihara's parents.

I watched Koharu sift through my bag of pretzels.

"From what I know," He said, adjusting his glasses, "it can be a rough road. Not just of physical recovery. We are talking about serious physical abuse. Every one of us, before U-17, could tell that something bad had happened to poor Kirihara. The violence in his tennis was an unmistakable sign of trauma." He decided to take off his glasses and clean them on his white shirt. "But Kirihara played a doubles match with our Kura during the training camp. And…_you_ know how Kura is with people, you know that when it really matters, he makes you feel like you're the dopest person in the entire world."

I laughed, but I felt guilty about it, "Yeah."

Koharu stole a glance at Yuuji, on the other side of me, who was sleeping on Gin's shoulder. Gin, who, up until this very moment, hadn't said anything, let out a sad sigh. "There is no sense in getting involved. No sense in spreading gossip, or speculation. We do what friends do. We wait for things to be okay again."

We all watched a small drop of Yuuji's drool slip from his mouth and saturate into Gin's shirt.

"Some of us wait better than others."

We spent the next few minutes trying to see how many pretzels we could fit into Yuuji's slightly opened mouth until he looked like a deep-sea fish.

"Between us," Koharu said, rubbing his face against my shoulder, "and between sleeping beauty, we're glad you're here."

I felt like I was a little trapped. Not just between Koharu and Yuuji, or the soapstone statue of Gin. But I felt like I was trapped between being a friend and being a girlfriend. Which was stupid. But maybe that was what it was supposed to be like. Maybe this was the glamour of life. This was the glamour of real life—waiting in a hospital. This wasn't a pulse-pounding romance novel. This wasn't perfect skin. This wasn't a good hair day. This wasn't twinkling eyes and dramatic blushing. This was a kid in the hospital. And if this was what it would take to get to all those good things then, fine. Fine.

Sometimes Yukari came too, but not very often.

I told An, because I couldn't lie to her and because there was no point. I made it clear that I was not going to ask her about what happened between her and Kirihara, and that I was in this hospital ninety-percent for Shiraishi. I could tell she was mad but she knew she shouldn't be. I just needed someone to sit me down and tell me all of the interconnected stories, but I knew that it wasn't my place to ask. I didn't know, maybe it should be.

It was late when Shiraishi came out of the room. He looked tired, like he always did now. And he looked sad, and he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, which I suppose was a pretty accurate description of the pressure on his body. He gave a weak smile as Yuuji awoke, mouth full of sharp pretzels and spat them out on the floor.

We spent some time cleaning up before leaving.

Koharu lead Yuuji in the opposite direction after giving me a pleasantly sly look. They waved, hand-in-hand as they stumbled, together down the sidewalk and into the sunset.

"How was your training?" Shiraishi asked.

Gin, monstrous in size but still as silent and as gentle as the sunset itself, nodded. "It was the closest thing to a spiritual experience I have ever had."

"Is that not the point?"

"The point is to be able to find the spirituality in the world around you. To meditate on and accept and absorb the goodness and the badness and everything in between."

"That's really pretty," I said.

"You'd be surprised how words seem to give themselves up to you once you surrender yourself to them."

"Now you're getting a little ahead of yourself," Shiraishi laughed.

Gin gave us a strange bow and ventured off down a barely-lit dirt road.

"His family own all the property behind that treeline," Shiraishi said, leaning down to reach my ear. "I wanted to, ah, thank you, sort of, for coming with me—us, everyone. And I also wanted to apologize."

We stood there, waiting for the bus but I didn't want it to come.

"It's just, as grateful as I am for your company, in any situation, I promise, I don't want you feel like you have to come if it makes you uncomfortable."

I stepped on his foot, "See, that's where we are different." I stepped a little too hard. "I _want_ you to want me to feel like I have to be there. I want to be a part of things. Even the ones you've tried to protect me from. I just trust that you'll tell me all your secrets if I wait long enough." I smiled up at him. "I meant what I said, that I want to be here for all the good and bad things that happen to you, but you don't seem to believe me."

"If I didn't know better, I would say it sounds like you're finally asking me out."

"Leave it to you, to wither everything down to one simple choice." I wasn't mad, but my body felt mad. "You still treat me like I haven't come far at all and you _know_ that isn't true. You _know_ that I've been pushed _so_ far out of my comfort zone—thanks to you and, and I'm not mad about it but don't…don't bring me back to that time when I didn't like myself, please? And you smile and you laugh and I know that you couldn't be mean if you tried but, when I'm with you, I always feel like you think I'm still that person who thinks she doesn't need friends, or that thinks being aloof and cold is cool and you have to know that I don't think that anymore. And you have to know how much I like you so, what's the point? I just…I don't get it."

Shiraishi leaned against the bus-stop post. He reached out, pushing his fingers through my hair so it rested behind my ear. "You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering."

"What?"

"Hemingway," He said. "But before you, no one."

Then, it felt like my heart was about to give out from hope. It didn't matter how bad my skin was. It didn't matter what my hair looked like. I sure felt like my eyes were watering and my face was on fire, both in the best of ways. This was over the hump. This was one of the good things.

"Oh, well, in that case…"

I hadn't expected that. I hadn't expected any of that.

I felt myself collapsing from the inside. I felt pathetic. I felt like the entire empty street knew. But somehow that was so much worse than Shiraishi knowing how I felt. And that felt like a change.

"In that case…" Be brave. Be kind. Be calm. Be the best version of yourself. "In that case, yeah. Go out with me. Tell your parents about me. Pay for my food. Hold my hand at school. Tell me everything you hate and tell me everything you like. Teach me about plants and introduce me to your sister. Do all of that stuff. Go out with me."

In the most beautiful of swoops, Shiraishi bent down, and I felt his thumb on my cheek long before I felt his mouth on mine. I felt my back bend in unhealthy, spectacular ways as I grabbed for his crisp, white shirt. I felt his fingers through my hair again and every inch of my body jolted to a whole new level of life.

And by that I meant, _holy shit_ _this is what it means to want someone. _

And being a disaster of a person didn't seem so bad anymore when the only things I could think about were Shiraishi's mouth and eyes and nose and jaw and wrists and knuckles and it was too late because my hands found the sharpness of his hipbones and I made several really embarrassing sounds—

Then Shiraishi grabbed my shoulders and shoved me away.

"And there's your bus."

I forgot where I was.

* * *

"So like, _together _together?"

"What does that even mean?"

An took a bite of asparagus, chomping on it, thoughtfully. "There are varying degrees of togetherness."

"There are," Yukari agreed, shuffling her perfectly sliced apple pieces around the blob of peanut butter. "But relationships vary in terms of three very important things: commitment, comfortableness, and physical contact."

An nodded.

I shrunk into the railing, sort of wishing it wasn't there so I could slip off the roof; sort of wishing I hadn't taken An and Yukari up to the rooftop garden for lunch. "Oh."

"Full-on _together_ requires the highest level of commitment, comfortableness and physical contact."

"Is that even a word?"

"Irrelevant."

"We all know you have spent hours at that hospital. It shows your level of commitment to stability is quite high."

I didn't know An and Yukari were in the same class and I couldn't have expected them to get along so well.

"And I can vouch for Shiraishi. I was a handful that night and I wouldn't have blamed him if he hadn't wanted anything to do with your drunk friend," Yukari smiled.

"Ok cool."

"You let him sleep over at your house that night too, so I would assume you are comfortable around him."

"No shit."

"And," An began with a smile, "he did invite you to the matches. It may only be the start of the tournament but it's still something."

"Ok can we not talk about—"

"Physical contact."

"Physical contact."

"How about _no_—"

"Because it sets the tone for whatever kind of relationship follows," Yukari said, apparently becoming an expert in emotional dissection. "Because, you know some people say not to hook up with someone on the first date."

Well shit.

"But," An cut in, "_hooking up _means different things to different people."

"What?"

"Like, if you're a virgin, it means just sort of making out and dry humping and stuff. Once you're past that, it means full on—"

"I almost don't want a relationship if you two are this invested in it."

"We're just trying to help you figure out what you have, and what you want."

I looked from An to Yukari. An looked like she was genuinely concerned for me but also wanted to become better friends through shared secrets and taboo, teenage discussions. I felt a little bad because she didn't know there were no secrets to tell. And poor Yukari's face was so red, that if I didn't know any better I would say she was having an allergic reaction to her peanut butter.

"Look," I said. "What you guys are saying makes sense. I just feel like I'm not the kind of person who needs to know everything about every moment, or needs reassurance. I'm sort of just fine floating. But I'm also, like, ninety-percent sure we're in a relationship."

Yukari screamed.

"But if you could not do that, that would be great."

"Gossip and jitters aside," An said, "I'm happy for you. You do things at your own pace and I think that's really admirable."

"Not to mention, Shiraishi is super hot."

"Yukari has a valid point."

Somewhere through our lunch, Yukari went to go study for the chemistry test. An and I chose to forgo the positive decision of studying in favor of some alone time. And if that didn't make it sound creepy enough, An moved us to a bench, surrounded by yellow tulips and little, blue forget-me-nots. She looked at me like we were about to have an intervention. Which was strange considering the struggle that was our last conversation.

"Kirihara used to play tennis really violently," She said. "He put my brother in the hospital. He hurt Fuji too and, and mocked our team for months after. Fuji beat him, but it wasn't enough to put it in perspective for him. I'm telling you this so you know what Shiraishi is dealing with, but also because I don't want to hold onto it anymore. Kirihara promised me that he had changed, that he didn't see tennis as an arena for violence but, but once his captain, Yukimura was fully recovered from his hospitalization, he went right back to his old ways. I knew something was wrong with him, I really did. I think everyone did. But I guess, after watching him hurt the people I cared about, I thought, just for a little while, that he deserved it. And I regret that, so, so much now."

I stared into my lunchbox. What did a person say to that? What did she want me to say? How could I fix this?

"But then U-17 happened, and my brother told me everything. Everything about how Kirihara watched his teammate give up his place to ensure that he got the best training possible…How Kirihara almost attacked a high schooler and Shiraishi got between them and he got hit and…And how he still tried to be Kirihara's friend. And it made me feel so shitty. It made me hate myself a little bit, to know that if it had come down to it, I would have never bothered to care about Kirihara as another human being." She adjusted the clip in her hair and wiped the makeup out of the corner of her eyes. I'm a little jealous of you," She said. "I'm a little jealous that you could be so cool in a moment of horrific panic. You helped save his life and he will never forget it. I've just added to the suffering of someone who was—and may still be, suffering more than any person should."

"I think anger can be very hypocritical." I didn't take my eyes off the lunchbox but I had finally found the words I wanted to say. "I think we all want to live without grudges, without holding onto the things that have happened to us—to forgive and forget. But anger gets people through things. Holding onto anger gives you something when you might not have anything. And I think we all talk about how forgiving is like lifting a weight off your shoulders but, but sometimes when something just totally sucks, we don't want to get rid of it. We want to relish the adrenaline and the selfishness and we want to make someone feel guilty. And I think anyone who says differently is a hypocrite. I don't think you're a bad person at all," I said. "I can say that because you make me feel funny and confident and like, like I am a good friend even when I'm not and I really appreciate that. So I'm not gonna say anything about you and Kirihara, but I am going to say that if you ever want to come to the hospital, you won't be alone."

She smiled at me like she was trying not to cry.

* * *

I stood in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror like a person looks at bad thrift store clothes. Maybe if I tucked my shirt in…Yeah, somehow that looked better. Because tucking in my shirt made me forget about all the shitty things happening around me. Because if I thought I looked a little bit better, Kirihara wouldn't still be in the hospital and An wouldn't feel like a bad person.

I felt like I was in a haze of emotion. All I saw, everywhere I looked, all I saw was people being angry or confused or sad or nervous. Very few of them were actually happy. How could I let myself be happy if my friends weren't?

The next thing I was aware of was the incessant tapping on the back of my chair. But before I remembered that Kenya was behind me, I saw Shiraishi looking at me. "What?" It came out harsher than I meant it to so I swirled around to look at Kenya. "What?"

"Look who's back, space cadet." Kenya laughed. "You looked like a zombie."

"Oh," I looked from one face to another. "Sorry."

"Did you study?"

I looked at Shirashi instead, "Not even a little."

He smiled to himself, and Kenya didn't notice.

"Dude, that sucks. I barely remember how to balance equations."

"I offered to lend you my notes."

"No Kura, you don't understand. If I beat you using _your_ notes, victory will be meaningless."

"It's not a competition."

I didn't understand most of what was on the test. I wasn't paying attention to the numbers and equations. Instead I found that the only part of the test I was sure of was the part about serotonin and dopamine. I spent far too much time drawing them out across the paper. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Shiraishi look up from his own test at me, but I didn't look back.

Shiraishi was the first to turn his test in. Others followed later. But I wasn't paying attention to them. I was busy filling in the spaces between letters. I drew a crappy tree in the corner of the page. I was one of the only ones left when I felt my knuckles cramp up so I stood and passed my paper to the teacher.

Then the bell rang.

I reached over, dancing my fingers across Shiraishi's desk. "Hey, do you think it would be alright if An came to see Kirihara? She didn't say she would, but I think she might."

"I think it could be good," He said, lazily. "I mean I think it could also go very badly but I think there is a higher chance of it being good for him."

"You're not talking about Tachibana's little sister, are you?" Kenya flung himself on top of Shiraishi's desk. "Man, she's cute. Chitose said she's off-limits though which is kind of a bummer."

"You must be devastated."

"She brought juice boxes to practice once. Best day of my life."

The rest of the day went by, leaving me emotionally unchanged. I figured with nothing to do for two hours until tennis practice was over, I could go to the library and get some work done.

Our library wasn't anything special. In fact, it was much more Western than I had expected. There were leather chairs at large wooden tables with intricate dividers in the shape of different kinds of flowers. Each little, personal square had its own lamp. On the opposite end were the books, in their own, rather dungeon-like room.

I was deep into my English paper about the current state of translation barriers, in my small desk by the window when I heard the loud screeching of a chair. There was about three solid seconds of eye contact between me and Chitose before I bolted up to run away.

"Calm down," He said.

I sat.

"Zaizen told me…"

Please no.

"That I was a colossal dick."

He looked at me, unblinking, unmoving, but still somehow not waiting.

"I'm mad at a lot of people, but none of them are you, Brainchild." He leaned in, like he was too tall to fit comfortably at this desk. "I was mad because I thought you were going to take Shiraishi away from us, but it turned out Kirihara messed up way more than you did. And I was mad at Fuji for taking Tezuka away from me and I was mad at Kippei for coming back just when I was feeling overwhelmed."

Be brave. Be kind. Be calm. Be the best version of yourself.

"Please," I said, "don't be mad at Kirihara. I don't know about Fuji or Tachibana and I don't want to presume to know those situations but…but I saw that car hit Kirihara. I saw his face when he saw Shiraishi and…and I think I'm starting to know how it feels to realize that someone you care about is central to the happiness and confidence of others. It's not that I think you guys don't want to share Shiraishi but…but I think if someone in particular needs him, I think it's Kirihara."


	15. Shipwrecked

Shipwrecked

I felt the eggshells beneath my feet. But I also felt like this was a test.

"I guess I'm just a little jealous," Chitose said. "I guess when it comes to Shiraishi, I have to wait in line."

Say something.

"Do you love him?"

Chitose held his cheeks in his hands, looking at me sadly.

"I'm sorry, I just thought that maybe if someone wanted to—no I'm sorry I shouldn't have—"

"It was like being shipwrecked on a deserted island, wouldn't you agree?" He closed his eyes to me, as if reliving an actual memory. "You know your little island so well. You know how to survive there. You've built a little civilization there. But you're alone, and it's nothing compared to the mainland. It's nothing compared to Shitenhouji or the tennis club or…real friends."

It wasn't fair. How could someone I was so set on not liking say something like that. How could he know exactly what I was going through? "And all this time," I said, "it was you who knew how I felt. Probably better than anyone else. I…I would have liked to be your friend, Chitose. And I still do! I still really want to be your friend."

He got a weird look on his face. I didn't want to flatter myself by calling it disbelief, but it was something close to that. Something close to unexpected.

Chitose pulled back, running his fingers through his hair. "Well damn, Brainchild, okay. Okay. Be my friend."

* * *

"Do you want me to go in with you?" I asked.

"No, no," An said. "I just need like, thirty more seconds."

Shiraishi, An and I sat in the waiting room that was a small corner on third floor. We had been sitting there for about fifteen minutes, waiting with An while she got up the courage to go see Kirihara.

"Okay, I'm ready."

An stood up, flicking imaginary dust off her uniform. She made her way down the hall, nervous like she hadn't memorized the room number.

"She'll be alright," Shiraishi said, running his thumb over my kneecap while I tried to tie up my shoelace.

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I just stared at the dry skin around Shiraishi's cuticle. I watched his knuckles curl. Thank god I shaved this morning.

An came back after a while. She didn't look defeated, but she looked confused. She stopped in front of me, with her eyebrows drawn together, and her hands crossed loosely across her chest. "So…" She mumbled out, like she didn't recognize the sound of her own voice. "So he wants to talk to you, Hisae."

"What?"

"Kirihara, he said he wanted to talk to the girl who was wearing the jersey."

Shiraishi and I turned to look at each other.

"You don't have to—"

I was up before I had even thought about it. An looked worried, like maybe somehow she didn't think I could handle this. I felt a gentle tug on my skirt. I looked down at Shiraishi.

"He's not a bad person," He said.

"Okay," I said.

Room 314 was just down the hall, past the floor's information desk, and to the left.

I knocked. The only thing running through my head was to not make myself into an enemy, into a threat. I felt like how Gin must have felt the first time he met me.

"Yeah," I heard from the other side of the door.

When I stepped over the threshold, I felt my worst memory come flooding back.

The boy looked so different from the brief moments I had seen him on the bus, and even less like the boy I had seen get hit by the car. His leg was wrapped excessively. Bandages everywhere. Machines everywhere. Only one small plastic chair next to the bed. Waxy sheets with little blue dots on them.

I didn't sit. I didn't say anything.

The boy looked skeletal, lethal, and furious.

"You're not gonna get the jersey back," He said. "Apparently they had to cut it off and throw it out."

"That's alright," I said, finally.

"Captain said you were there, when it happened."

"Captain?"

"Captain Yukimura—Jesus Christ…"

"Oh…yeah."

"What's your name?"

"H-Hisae. Hisae Sumer—"

"I have to tell you something."

"Okay—"

He was mad at me for something I didn't know about. Or maybe I did but I had forgotten. I thought back to the accident. Had I done something wrong? Was he mad that Shiraishi couldn't get into the ambulance with him?

"I don't know what I was doing that day. I don't remember what I had on my mind, why I even came to that place. But," He stared at his own hands, the bundled finger that had almost been snapped right off was now bundled and had already begun the process of healing. "But I remember…the only thing I remember is when I saw you guys, on the other side of the street, and it's my last memory. I remember seeing you guys and thinking, 'wow, wouldn't it be great…wouldn't it be something if they stepped into the street and got nailed by a car."

He looked up, eyes angry and watery and on the verge of being apologetic. Kirihara was struggling through every word like they were hard to swallow.

"And I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry and I'm…mad that I thought that. Because I don't…I don't _know _what, or whatever you're about. I don't know you so I'm sorry."

I didn't know if I was capable of being condescending, but I knew that now was the time to put everything away. To forget about trying to be funny and kind and polite.

"You're right," I said, "you don't know me. I could have been a perfectly kind, innocent person and you spent a second or two imagining me getting _killed_ by a car. But that's not my issue, that's yours. But…" But this time I was able to look into his pretty eyes, "but I've been hanging around here for a while so, so it might not hurt to get to know me a little better…I mean if you didn't mind…"

"Are you trying to guilt me into being your friend?"

"I don't know."

"Are you joking?"

"Maybe."

He pursed his lips and leaned back in the bed, crossing his hands over his chest. He looked like An.

"Shiraishi told me you are a good person and…and I need more friends."

Kirihara suddenly looked a little embarrassed, a little giddy and a little like he was hiding a smile somewhere. I realized I could use Shiraishi for just about anything. But twice in one day I had said the right thing and twice in one day it had paid off.

* * *

We left the hospital in silence. It was like we all had our own things to think about; our own private encounters had affected us in different ways. To me, it didn't feel right to break that silence. I just wanted to marinade. Kirihara was like everything someone with anxiety hated. He was physical proof the spotlight effect was real and he made it feel accurate, make you feel like you were under a microscope. It was hard to be calm around him. But there was a childishness about him that I felt connected me to Shiraishi a little bit more. I understood exactly how Kirihara wanted their friendship. I understood why.

Kirihara was the embodiment of being shipwrecked. I could see the effects of colonization happening. I felt like I was front row to the aversion of a disaster. And that made me feel lucky, which was selfish and strange. I wanted to be by Shiraishi's side when he spread goodness and joy and confidence everywhere he went. But I was left to wonder if I was worthy of that, and that was a whole other sleepless night.

"You do this every day?" An asked. "That was exhausting, being that careful." She smiled up at Shiraishi, sadly, "But you're a really good friend." And then she smirked at me, "And you're an even better girlfriend."

"Not really though," I said.

Shiraishi gave me a smile, "She's alright."

An smiled at me too and I got fantastically uncomfortable.

Even if I didn't feel worthy of this, even if I didn't feel like I would be able to handle it…I was with two people who thought I was _alright_. And that made me so embarrassingly happy. But I couldn't let them know that so I pretended to scowl, "Calm down."

Suddenly an An stopped at the crosswalk. "Oh shit."

"Oh shit?" I asked.

"I forgot tonight is…Date Night."

"Sounds so ominous when you say it," Shiraishi mumbled from somewhere above me.

"No, no, it's this thing Takeshi and I do every week. We alternate going to see each other and I totally forgot it's his turn to visit me!" She turned to me, raising a finger and inhaling like she was about to deliver an epic speech. "Hisae, there comes a time in every friendship…" I was right, "when one friend must invade the other's closet, in a desperate attempt to put together an outfit. This is that time."

"Ok sure."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

An checked her watch, "We have an hour or so until he gets here. Thank you so much."

I shrugged, "My house is this way so…"

Shiraishi followed us, at first looking a little unsure but then masking it by saying something about making sure we got home okay. There hadn't been a mugging in my area in months but I stepped on his foot to let him know it was alright.

It was four o'clock by the time we got to my house.

"It's kind of a long ways isn't it? From Tokyo to here?"

"The sacrifices of a long-distance relationship," An sighed. "Your house is nice."

I suddenly felt a little nervous. The last time Shiraishi was here it didn't go so well. And with Yukari…well my house didn't have the best track record for pleasant memories anyway.

I rounded on the living room to see my sister sitting in front of the TV, doing homework; it was on, but no sound was coming out.

"Hey," I said.

She looked up, a little confused. "You're home late."

"We spent some time at the hospital. Um, Airi, this is my friend An, and—"

Moving at the speed of light, Shiraishi had already sat down next to her and was already offering her a hand, "Kuranosuke. Nice to meet you, Airi."

Airi looked at me suspiciously, then back to Shiraishi's hand, then up at his face like she didn't believe he was real.

"You weren't lying," She grinned.

"Suck a dick," I said.

"I wanna see your room…" An giggled.

I left Shiraishi with my sister and showed An up the stairs and down the hallway. "Um I just did laundry so…"

"Wow," An said, looking around my room, "I figured you would be a cleaner person." She smiled.

"Nope."

She bounded up to my closet, flinging it open with joy. "I actually love going through people's clothes. Is that creepy? Oh well."

I felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over me. She was smaller than me. What if nothing fit? It was only a matter of time until she found out most of my clothes were just sweatshirts.

She flicked through the hangers, muttering to herself, pulling out something and examining it. "You know this means if you ever want to borrow something of mine, you are more than welcome to." She pulled out a blouse that I had never felt comfortable wearing. "Why don't you wear these more often?"

"I don't know."

She put it back, almost sadly. Then, an idea struck her body, "Hey, why don't you and Shiraishi come out with us?"

"Dude, no."

Shit. That was too abrupt. That was rude.

But she just laughed, "No, no, it's not like that. We are going to this art festival in the park. Well, it's all over the city, actually, but based out of the park. There are a bunch of exhibits that people don't even know are just art. Some of it is modern and kinda creepy, but there's food and cool stuff to see, especially once it gets darker. And it's free."

"Night art?"

"You guys should totally come! Bring your sister! Or not she might not like it." She smirked at me, "It might be too _avant-garde_ for you."

"That's so pretentious," I almost laughed.

"Please come, and please let me dress you."

"Um…let me just run downstairs and see…"

I stepped carefully down the stairs, trying to eavesdrop as best I could. But when I heard my sister's laugh I decided it was time to cut it short. When I rounded the corner I saw the TV, still silent. My sister a bundle of giggles and Shiraishi—Shiraishi helping her with her homework. God damn. But I smiled. It was like everything that made me uncomfortable didn't even phase him. It was like he was on another plane.

"Hey," I said. "We got invited to Date Night."

"Gross," My sister said.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that there is this art festival, but like, at night, and it's kinda a big thing I guess. And An said…An said we should go…But like, if you don't want to…"

"Well," Shiraishi said, "I think it sounds like fun, what do you think, Airi?"

My sister shot me a glance. I stared back, unblinking.

Don't you dare.

"Grosser. Why would I want to spend time with both of you?"

"Good call," I hissed.

My sister got to her feet, huffing as she did. "But," She looked down at Shiraishi, a small smile on her face, "but if I need help with bio stuff, I can ask you, right?"

"Of course, you didn't really need me though."

I watched my sister teeter off up the stairs like she couldn't keep herself balanced. It was sort of a good feeling. "Why can you make friends so easily?" I asked, still staring after my sister. "Were you just born that way?"

Shiraishi leaned on the coffee table, "You just smile and talk."

I turned to look at him, "It's not that easy for everyone, you know."

Suddenly I heard footsteps thundering down the stairs. An looked so pretty. She was wearing a simple dress that I haven't worn in months but she made it look so much better with a jean jacket she seemed to pull out of nowhere.

"You guys are coming right?"

I nodded.

"Hisae, I found something for you too! And you need to stop hiding the red bra—"

I ran up the stairs after her before stumbling back down, giving an apologetic look to Shiraishi, and then running back upstairs.

"What do you think of this?" An waved her arms extravagantly, at the clothes she had laid out. "Those pants, this top—which you need to wear the red bra under so you can see it—and then the jacket makes it a little more classy. But not too classy."

"That's me, not too classy" I tried to joke. But it was only to hide how flattered I was. I hadn't worn anything like this before. I mean sure, it was all mine but I had only bought the shirt so Haruka would think I was cool. And that hadn't worked out for me. Actually, when it came to my own clothes, it felt like nothing ever worked out for me. "That's me," I said again.


	16. Red

Red

"Something's wrong," I said.

"Huh?"

Momoshiro was surprisingly even more excited than us about Shiraishi and I intruding on their date than we were. He hadn't stopped talking since we met him at the station. He absorbed Shiraishi in tennis jargon, Seigaku updates, complaints, questions, the like.

An and I sort of fell behind, and I brushed my fingers against hers.

"He hasn't even looked at me once."

An's lips twitched. "Hey, Takeshi, you don't even know where you're going, do you?"

Momoshiro turned around, grinning sheepishly. "I'm following the sound of art students."

"The park is actually just a few blocks away," Shiraishi said, pulling Momoshiro's attention back to the road."

I gave An a sad look.

What was I doing wrong? The shirt was too much. I knew it. I knew I couldn't be that person.

An tugged on my hand, as if she could read my mind, "Not a chance," she whispered.

In the center of the park was a giant class square. Inside it was a man in traditional samurai garb, dancing. The people on the outside lit up the glass with the flash on their cameras; some tried to dance along, others—like us—stood back and just stared.

"What does it mean?" Momoshiro asked.

An locked her arm in his, "An outward expression of his inward commitment to the art of dance."

"That's all he's ever wanted to be…"

The two of them laughed and I stole a glance up at Shiraishi. He seemed mildly transfixed by the dancing samurai, but not distracted.

"We are gonna explore the south end," An said. "Text me if you wanna meet up after, yeah?"

I knew she was doing it for me. I knew she was trying to give us some time alone, as creepy as that sounded. But I didn't want to be alone with Shiraishi. I wanted An to be there to cushion all my emotions.

Momoshiro made a comment about wanting to talk more about their respective rookies, but An dragged him off.

"Um…"

Idiot. Why can't you talk? Harness the power of the red bra and say something that doesn't suck.

"Maybe—"

"I was running through the cemetery the other day and I noticed this guy putting up speakers on the fence around it, and I think that might be part of the show, and it might be something really interesting but it's in the very north end—"

"Let's do it."

Wow. Wow I was messing this up somehow. Somehow throughout all of it, he still wouldn't really look at me. I knew I didn't look good but was I, was I embarrassing? Was that why he wanted to go to the most secluded part of the art show, because I looked embarrassing?

The path through the park was lined with Christmas tree lights wrapped around little stakes in the ground. In one little area, the biggest cherry blossom tree in the city was decorated with little pieces of paper.

"_The Tree of Secrets_," Shiraishi read off the small podium in front of it.

I couldn't help myself. I made my way towards the tree, lifting up a small piece of paper that had been tacked gently into the bark.

I HAVEN'T EATEN IN SIX DAYS

I let it fall back, looking up into the pink flowers. It was like they reflected non-existent moonlight. They were always glowing a pale pink in the evening, even here, in a dense park after the lamps were lit. The flowers were always beautiful. I turned to look at Shiraishi, hoping that this time he would be looking at me. But he actually jerked away.

"Is something wrong?"

Finally. Finally I felt courage through my veins and muscles.

"N-Not at all."

Or not.

So we kept walking in near silence, trying to judge whether or not a strangely shaped tree was a piece of art or not. The people we passed on the path were full of life, laughing and bumping shoulders and smiling at us.

When we found what was definitely the next piece of art, I was at a loss for what to say or even think. I didn't care about the ten or so people surrounding the sculpture. I only cared that Shiraishi hadn't said a word to me since the god damned Tree of Secrets. Speaking of secrets…Something was wrong. I had done something wrong. He was mad. That was it. I didn't know any other way to fix it.

But that's when I fully saw the sculpture, roped off and presented on a little platform.

"What even is that?" I heard someone ask.

I didn't even know what it was but I knew I sort of hated it. It almost looked like…it sort of looked like something was bubbling up through the surface of genitalia and splitting it open. It was sort of gross. But I couldn't be the only one thinking it.

I had forgotten about being mad. I had forgotten about whatever it was that I had done wrong. I just let out a breath.

"Syphilis in Repose…"

Shiraishi hunched over, his shoulders were shaking and I thought he was dying but no, no he was almost crying. He was laughing.

A few other people around us burst out in snorts and giggles but Shiraishi looked like he was having a hard time standing.

I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing. I just watched him fall apart into the most unflattering fit of laughter I had ever seen a person suffer.

I made weird eye contact with a guy who turned to look at us, sort of shrugging at him.

Shiraishi grabbed a hold of my shoulder, trying to steady himself.

"Oh man…" He gasped. "Oh man…"

"Are you alr—"

He choked out more laughter. More unstoppable, silent gulps of air. I felt the weight on my shoulder increase as I tried to look at him. What was wrong?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He sobbed, pulling away from me. "That was just…that was just straight up, the funniest thing I have ever heard you say."

I wasn't mad, but I felt like I was allowed to be loud. "_What_? Are you kidding? Of all the things I have ever said to you, you choose _syphilis in repose _as your favorite? So…so are you not mad at me?"

The laughter on his face washed itself away. "What?"

"Well it's just…" I looked around as people started to grow tired of the sculpture and leave. "It's just you haven't really even said anything to me so I thought maybe…"

After saying it aloud, we both looked equally confused.

"Oh," Shiraishi said. "That actually is very much my fault."

"What?"

He smiled sadly. "The truth is, I…I was a little bit nervous. I thought I had gotten used to learning new things about you. But I was wrong. When I saw you…I realized that I still have so much to learn and that made me happy but I'm sorry it took me so long to come around."

I looked down at my shirt, adrenaline flowing from every extremity. I pulled open my jacket. "So…so it wasn't the bra…"

Shiraishi smiled, extravagantly reaching his hand forward, breathing in an exclaiming triumphantly, "No, no, this work of textile art deserves more praise than all the sculptures in the world."

An elderly woman coughed behind us and Shiraishi took his hand off my chest.

I let out a breath, trying not to cry. "Okay…"

"Are you, are you alright?"

All my confidence left my body, but somehow that was alright. Somehow I didn't need confidence for this. "Sorry," I smiled, "allergies."

* * *

The cemetery was just as creepy as I had assumed it was going to be. But this time Shiraishi was holding my hand so fear didn't even seem like a possibility.

There were sounds reverberating from every angle. Like a dull static, eerie crackles and almost-breaths. "What is that?" I asked.

"They're the sound waves of this cemetery. The artist recorded the waves and replays them, overlapping on a loop. It's literally the sound of the dead. Or the sound of art students, as Momoshiro suggested."

"Do you smell that?"

"What?"

I smiled. "That's the smell of pot."

"Yo!"

A tall mop of hair stood up from a small circle of tombstones.

"Chitose?"

"Are you literally getting high in a graveyard?"

Chitose wrinkled his entire face as he sauntered over to us, trying to put his hands as far into his pockets as he could. "Aw and my main bitch, Brainchild."

"That's cute," I said.

Shiraishi grinned, "Are you hanging out alone?"

"Nah," Chitose gestured over to the graves, where two other boys waved erratically.

"Are those…"

"Yeah they're from Rikkai. Found them hanging around the hospital after visiting hours. Turns out we have a lot more in common than tennis. They're pretty dope. Come hang out." He turned to look at me. "Friends hang out. We're friends."

I felt Shiraishi's hand tense up in mine but I stared back at Chitose. "Yeah," I said. "Let's hang out."

So we sat down, almost perfectly shielded by the circle of tombstones. One of the boys I didn't recognize at all; he had wild white hair and a constant smirk on his face, like it couldn't shift into anything else. I learned his name was Masaharu Niou. The other one had red hair, he was cute and looked happy to be here. His name was Bunta Marui and I had seen him at the hospital twice and he hadn't said a word to us.

I sat a little too close to Shirashi because I couldn't tell if he was uncomfortable or not.

Niou pulled a small pipe out of his pocket; he protected it like he didn't want it to spill. "Lighter," He said to Marui.

The redhead passed it to him.

"Isn't it bad luck to use a white lighter?" Marui asked, as an afterthought.

"I feel like the color of the lighter is the last thing we need to worry about," Niou hissed as he lit up the bowl and inhaled.

Chitose drummed his fingers along his knee, "This music though."

Before I could say anything, Marui cut in, "It's literally the sound of dead people, have some respect."

Niou passed him the pipe.

"Gum," Marui said, pointing to his mouth.

Niou still tried to pass him the pipe when, in one gust of breath, Marui spat his gum out at his friend. Chitose laughed, and I almost did. Niou flung the gum out of his lap and into the shadow, trying to hand Marui the pipe again.

Marui rolled his eyes at me, like he was slowing recognizing me again, and took a drag. He coughed, sharply.

"How are you guys enjoying the show?" Niou asked, finally looking at Shiraishi and I. "There was this one piece I saw that was just this girl wearing a sheet. That was it, like the lamest ghost and she just stood there. I love modern art."

"I went to a museum once," Marui began, eyes fluttering back, "and there was this wall. Like this massive wall on the inside of the building that was covered in pink fur. People are so weird."

Marui passed the pipe to me, even going so far as to lean forward to light it for me. I took a small, warm inhale before letting it out through my nose. I leaned over Shiraishi, passing the pipe to Chitose as Marui tossed him the lighter.

Chitose didn't even see the lighter hit the tombstone he was leaning against.

Shiraishi fumbled around for the lighter as Chitose burst into laughter. As Shiraishi flicked the lighter to life, Chitose leaned in, "I miss you, man," he said in a weak, but distinctly southern American accent. He reached out, breathing in and patting Shiraishi's head fondly.

"Thanks for that," Shiraishi smiled.

"We should play tennis," Niou mumbled at Marui.

Marui rolled his head towards his friend, "Yes. And then get pizza."

"What if we did both at the same time?"

"Wow."

"Yo, Chitose, high tennis?"

"Wow."

"I know."

"Shiraishi?"

"Um…" He looked down at me, but I nodded. "Yeah alright, we can do that."

I wasn't too high but I was grinning stupidly. He said _we_.

Shiraishi and I stood up, only to find the other three almost incapable of it. We struggled to help lift Chitose as he laughed about the name on the tombstone.

I reached a hand out to Marui and he smiled up at me but he probably couldn't see straight because he missed my hand completely, then laughed at himself.

Niou grabbed it instead, heaving himself up without my help and almost knocking me over. He dug his fingers into my back to steady himself before breathing an apology into my neck. I jumped back, stumbling out of his grip.

Shiraishi stepped between us to pull Marui to his feet. I spent about four seconds thinking about how short Marui was.

Finally we were off, trudging through the graveyard and the sound waves of the dead. Chitose had completely pulled Shiraishi away from me, but it was fine because I was having a good time staring at my feet as I walked.

I felt a nudge in my side. I looked around to see Marui on my left. Niou was even farther up ahead than Chitose and Shiraishi. "Sorry," He said."

"Huh?"

"My friend gets a little hands-y when he's inebriated. I'll keep him under control."

"Oh," I said, having forgotten about it entirely. "I've seen you at the hospital."

"You have."

It was like he had been faking being high this whole time because suddenly his eyes were spot on and his articulation was perfect.

"So you know Kirihara?"

Marui dug his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, yeah we were both regulars. He's a year younger though so he hasn't graduated yet."

"He will, though. Graduate I mean, right? Despite the accident?"

Marui laughed to himself, darkly. "That's why I'm there."

"You bring him his homework and stuff? That's so nice."

"No, no," Marui laughed again, this time lighter, "I _do _his homework."

"Oh."

I heard Chitose's laugh from up ahead, harsh and almost violent in nature. And I felt sad. I felt like maybe Chitose had met these two because he didn't have anyone else. That was presumptuous to think but in the moment it felt reasonable. But I decided that these guys were alright. Mostly because Marui offered me a piece of his gum but also because they both looked at me like I was a real person.

"How did you end up here?" Marui asked.

"Shiraishi," I said. "Actually my friend and her boyfriend came to this and suggested we do, but then we found you guys…"

"Lucky you."

"Right? Well it really was a tossup between getting high and looking at modern art."

"Maybe that was what everyone was actually supposed to do?"

"Then that means you guys are ahead of your time."

* * *

I guess it was a tennis thing, so be able to locate every tennis court in the city. Like they all had this map in their heads. This court was only a short subway ride away from the park, down to the south end where it almost stops being south and becomes another city entirely. The subway ride was disastrous, with Chitose splayed across the seats, trying to get Shiraishi to talk to him while Niou alternating sitting on Marui and I.

The courts themselves were everything that street tennis was described to be: poorly lit, a few dirty benches and a saggy rope cutting the courts in half. I hadn't noticed Chitose and Niou with their racket bags; another strange tennis guy thing. Except there were only two rackets so Marui and Shiraishi started playing while Chitose and Niou surrounded me with their smoke.

"And then, and then we told Kin that it was an allergic reaction to his own sweat and we told him that Shiraishi would know what to do—obviously—and so he goes running over, so scared of his own boner," Chitose and Niou were both crying now, holding onto my shoulders for dear life, "and Gin goes running after him but he doesn't make it and Kin is just like, crying and Shiraishi had to sit him down and give him _the talk. _Can you imagine? That kid is feral."

I took the pipe out of Niou's hand so he wouldn't drop it while he gasped, silently for air. I took the lighter from Chitose as he started waving it close and closer to my face. I shrugged at the look Shiraishi gave me and lit up the pipe. It burned a little more this time but between exchanging boner stories and Niou putting his face next to mine, I needed an alternate reality.

"Oh man, oh man, I have an even better story!" Niou pressed inward again, waving his hand at Chitose. "This one time…"

I focused all my energy on watching the barely-there ball speed between rackets. Sometimes Marui would miss it, but maybe as a joke. I watched the two of them, dreamily. I could tell Shiraishi was happier. Which made me happier. I decided that I liked Marui. He was nice and had nice vibes and smelled better than any girl I had ever had the privilege of standing next to.

"This one time we dared Akaya to teabag the thee demons within seventy-two hours and he said he wouldn't do it but then this kid got so drunk that he couldn't even see straight," Niou took the pipe from me and inhaled, even though it wasn't lit anymore. "And then you have our vice-captain, Sanada, you know? And Sanada was going off on Marui about something stupid. And this kid, Akaya gets up behind him and just drops—" Niou looked up at Shiraishi and Marui, who had stopped playing. "Our turn?" Niou took one more burning hit before quickly passing it off to Chitose.

Chitose grinned at his new friend, inhaling before blowing the smoke up at Shiraishi endearingly. They swapped rackets, passing off the bench and leaving the little purple pipe in my lap.

We watched Chitose and Niou stumble onto the court. They looked hilarious, still able to pass the ball back and forth but in a frivolous, theatrical way. I felt Shiraishi and Marui laugh beside me and everything felt right. Everything felt fantastic, actually, especially the way that the air was touching my neck. Somehow everyone could tell that I was enjoying the way that the air was touching my neck. Marui took the pipe from my hands and pulled a small tin box out of Niou's racket bag, packing the bowl again.

He had little bird hands.

"You have beautiful little bird hands."

He looked at me, eyebrow raised but then laughed, "Oh man you are so reefed."

I glared at him, unable to say anything I liked.

Instead, I watched Marui put the pipe to his lips, lighting up the bowl and breathing in. He looked past me though, at Shiraishi. He spoke with a mouthful of smoke, "Hey man, I know you would never have a practice with Rikkai, and maybe it's for the best, but it's not like we don't like you guys." He blew the smoke from his cheeks. "I mean we _are_ assholes. Haru over there is actually a pretty bad person—"

A few meters away, mid serve, Niou threw up the finger.

"But whatever Yukimura says or does, or in this case, _doesn't_ do, that kid is my friend and I know, at the very least, we have that much in common."

I felt Shiraishi lean back against the bench beside me. And I knew in that moment that he didn't want me to be there. I also suddenly didn't want me to be there. I didn't know if Marui was expecting Shiraishi to say something, but he didn't look surprised when he didn't.

It seemed to me like the only way I could see was if I squinted my eyes. And it also seemed like the appropriate time to say something inappropriate.

"Does anyone else feel like the air is touching their neck in a really nice way?"

"Who even _are_ you?" Marui laughed.

Then I did the stupidest thing I could have done: I tried to make a joke. I made a dark sound, deep in my throat, trying to sound like a monster, "Your worst nightmare."

Both Shiraishi and Marui burst into laughter, but they were totally making fun of me, I could tell. I could tell that was the wrong thing to do and if I hadn't been inebriated, I would have been embarrassed. Even Chitose and Niou stopped playing, but I didn't think they heard me. So I just stared at Shiraishi's shoes and pretended like I hadn't said anything.

But Shiriashi jabbed me with his knuckle, "Not your best joke."

"Oh man," Marui laughed, "you're alright. Hey, what's your name?"

"We call this one _Brainchild_," Chitose piped in from somewhere above me.

"Why's that?"

I felt like Niou was actually talking to me and not Chitose, which felt good. But Marui was looking at me too, and Shiraishi too, but Shiraishi looked at me like he would never say anything if he thought it would upset me. I didn't think I liked the nickname. It reminded me of Haruka, but I also felt like that was why I was a little attached to it. Like, if I gave it up, there would be no chance of ever being her friend again. And I wasn't okay with that.

I could still feel Shiraishi's knuckle on my thigh, but I powered through the isolated butterflies and looked at Marui. "If it wasn't for this nickname, I might not have gotten to meet you guys."


	17. The Colonel

The Colonel 

"You didn't tell me I knew him already."

I pulled my eyes away from my bowl of cereal. "What?"

"You didn't tell me that I had met your _boyfriend_. From that night on our lawn?"

I flinched, wordlessly selecting a single piece of cereal and placing it on my spoon. I held it up, pulling the spoon back like a catapult, and slung the wheat across the kitchen table at my sister.

"Hey!"

"Oops."

The two of us sat in silence, at either end of the table, not looking at each other. Parents out to work, so we made our own breakfast. Airi had toast and I made her sunny-side up eggs and stuck to my cereal.

"My teacher told me we were gonna start group projects today," My sister said.

Before I knew it, I was back in middle school, the end of the year creeping up on all of us. We had to do a paired math project. I remember when the teacher read off the groups, the second one started with one of the more popular guys in the class, then followed with my name. The boy spun around in his seat, "Who the _fuck _is that?" He was popular, but not very well-liked and only a few people in the class laughed.

"Yeah?"

"I'm thinking of asking the teacher to put me with that girl…remember? The one I told you about that doesn't talk?"

"Yeah."

"Just because I think that no one else will want to be paired up with her."

I looked up from my bowl, "That's a little presumptuous of you."

"You don't know my class."

I shrugged, "Fair enough."

* * *

Chitose, Kenya and I looked like street rats, together on the bus, the drag of Monday morning falling heavily on our shoulders and eyes and weighing in our bones. No one talked; we all just listened to an elderly woman telling her friend about a revolutionary knitting pattern.

We nodded a farewell to Chitose and made our way to our classroom. Kenya yawned and pulled open the door for me. We lumbered in like zombies, only to find a few scattered students in almost the same vegetative state as us. Shiraishi wasn't there but Kenya took his seat behind me, throwing up his feet against the back of my chair. "It's gonna be a long week," He groaned.

I found that even when Shiraishi strode in, obviously having gotten the appropriate hours of sleep and not a care in the world, only about half of me felt energized. Apparently, even when it came to Shiraishi, energy was not transmittable.

He noticed though, when he looked at Kenya and I rubbing our eyes in a dreary, synchronized fashion. "You guys look miserable," He said, sitting down carefully, like he didn't want to wake us up from near-comatose, despite his smile.

I turned back to look at Kenya. He crossed his arms in a makeshift pillow, grumbling something about the speed in which he didn't do his homework. I looked at Shiraishi, my eyelids heavy, trying to smile.

I remember specific words spoken, throughout the next few hours. I remember certain ideas that I wrote down in my notes. I remember the way Shiraishi looked when he didn't raise his hand even though he knew the answer to a question. I remember the ache in my head when I tried to put together sentences. I didn't even have that song that Kenya usually tapped into the back of my chair to get me though the seconds that passed.

Lunch came like a dark shadow. I saw it coming but somehow was not prepared for it.

Kenya and I spent the time eating, almost daring Shiraishi to try and talk to us.

When I finished, I got up to go to the bathroom, mumbling what almost sounded like words as I stood up. I struggled down the hallway, rolling my shoulders around to lock them into a comfortable position. I couldn't get comfortable. I couldn't get comfortable in my own body. Walking felt weird. Everything felt weird. I made my way into a stall and hung out there for a while before getting bored and deciding to stare at myself in the mirror.

I didn't look great. My skin looked like it was about to get mad at me. My spine had given up. I tried to shape my hair into something, the strands protesting as I ran my fingers through them. I should have put on makeup.

I pushed out a fake sigh and headed back to class.

I only made it a few steps down the hall before a horrid scream sent my heart into my esophagus.

I booked it down the hall to back to my classroom, throwing open the door.

My classroom was in almost total disorder. A girl, hands trying to cover her terrified face sat, shaking at her desk in the middle of the room. Students stood around her in a circle. At least two desks had flipped over. The teacher stood, almost helplessly in the background, unsure about whether or not to be angry.

Shiraishi and Kenya were at the center of the circle.

"As far as jokes go, guys, not your best." Kenya patted the crying girl on the shoulder, "Next time, make her _laugh_ so hard she cries."

A few boys nodded, apologizing to the girl—Nakayama—and set about righting the fallen desks.

Now the teacher looked like he didn't care at all.

I pushed my way thought he people until I got to Nakayama's desk. She was crying and she still looked better than me. But then—"That's my lunchbox."

I pointed an accusing finger at the small box, placed upside-down on Nakayama's desk. Shiraishi and I made strange eye contact.

"About that…"

But I didn't listen. I lifted it up only to slam it back down as Nakayama let out another scream.

"You trapped a bug under my lunchbox?"

"A beetle, actually—"

"Get it out."

"Well you know I can't just drop him out the window—"

"Pretty sure you can."

We both froze, suddenly noticing the silence of the classroom. Even Nakayama was looking up at us strangely. There was nothing to stare at, but people still seemed somewhat confused at what was happening. Had no one ever seen us talk?

I leaned in close, "It can't stay in there."

"Please get it away from me," Nakayama sobbed.

Shiraishi stepped in, gently scooping up the beetle and cradling my lunchbox in his hands. For some reason, he felt like it was okay to show me. "Precious cargo…" He smiled at me.

I felt myself getting whimsy for a moment, just looking at how pleasantly excited he was. But, "No, no, you have to put it somewhere else."

"Let's go to the infirmary and try to find a box…"

Nakayama rolled her eyes, obviously tired of being scared, "Just get it _out_."

Shiraishi seemed entirely too pleased with himself as we made our way down to the first floor. He kept making faces at the beetle, like it was a human baby. "I don't know where the infirmary is," I said, trying to get his attention back on me.

"Oh, it's just up here."

We passed offices, the teacher's lounge and other doors I assumed lead to nowhere. The infirmary was at the end of the hall, on the left was the main office, with a few beds and chairs and sinks and the nurse's office in the back; on the other side of the hallway was a room completely filled with bunk beds.

"Do people really use these?" I asked.

"Once flu season starts…" He walked into the main office like he had been there many times before. He looked even more relaxed than usual.

I wandered around the room uncomfortably, poking at pens and opening drawers. "Where is the nurse?"

"Who knows?"

I pulled out a pair of thin, plastic gloves as I watched Shiraishi empty a small box of bandages. He bit the cap off of a pen and started poking holes in the top.

"Do you come here a lot?" I asked, dropping the gloves back in the drawer.

"I have to come here to get the first-aid kits for the team. And back in middle school I had to go there every morning to get my arm wrapped. I don't know, I just feel really comfortable in places like this." He picked up my lunchbox, tilting it until the beetle slid into the new box. "I'll give him a proper home after practice but this will have to do for now. He looked into the bandage box, "Sorry champ, you'll have to wait a little longer."

Suddenly, I remembered when Shiraishi talked about learning new things about me. At first, I almost couldn't understand it. Why would someone want to know more about _me_? But now I realized that I was enjoying this moment. I was enjoying the way he talked to the beetle like it was a person, that he liked infirmaries and that was why he was alright with waiting for Kirihara in the hospital every day. In fact, I wanted to learn more. It was like an adventure that was never going to end. And I felt so lucky. I felt so lucky that this person had given me permission to get to know him better. I felt so lucky that he hadn't given up on me. I felt so lucky to have his attention and his feelings and his time.

I walked over to where he sat, on one of the beds. He tried to hand my lunchbox back to me but I tossed it onto the other side of the bed. I held out my hand, "The beetle."

"While I have the upmost trust in you with most things, handing over this little creature—"

I grabbed the beetle-box out of his hand and gently set it on the desk.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked, looking up at me, worrying but also almost smiling. "Maybe you should rest here for the rest of the day and I can—"

I leaned in, standing between his legs as I grabbed Shiraishi's face in my hands. "You're really interesting." I felt like I was looking him over like something under a microscope. I felt him reach his arms around my back and intertwine his fingers over my spine. _That _was a strangely beautiful feeling.

"Thank you," He said under my thumbs, "that's very kind of you to say."

I moved my hands away from his face, ghosting my fingers over his jaw and down his neck until my fingers curled around his collar.

Was it selfish? Was it selfish of me to want to keep him to myself? No, I knew it was. Just like I knew I was a selfish person to begin with. I pulled myself closer to him, trying to put my face closer to his, trying to put my mouth closer to his. We were too close, so I kissed him. I didn't know how to tell him how lucky I felt, or how selfish I let myself become when I was with him, so I moved my knees, carefully, one by one to get into his lap, to dig my fingers into his hair.

I felt his fingers move from my back to pull at the back of my knee, keeping me secure. The other hand was up my shirt, doing that cool thing with my spinal cord.

"You're special. You're so special and cool and you make me feel fantastic."

* * *

Shiraishi threw open the door, the both of us almost out of breath from the hardest sprint of my life.

The entire classroom was silent.

Until—

"Holy fuck you guys totally boned in the nurse's office."

In three steps the teacher was at the door, red-faced and furious, but not at us. He looked back at the pairs of eager eyes. "Mr. Saito, the next time you choose to display your poor vocabulary by picking such juvenile words you will be reciting them for the principal. _Do_ you understand me?"

The boy in the front who I didn't even know nodded, biting back whatever retort he had.

The teacher ushered us back out into the hallway and shut the door behind him.

"Mr. Fujisaki…"

"Being on time is a very important skill to have."

"We're really sorry—"

"Since neither of you two were present for the group project announcement, you will do it together. Choose a poem from the approved list, or come talk to me if you want to do a different one. You will translate it from English to Japanese. It's due by the end of the week, but you have this class time to get started." He turned to open the door but seemed to reconsider. "Do _not_ disturb my class again by coming in late, are we clear?"

"Very clear."

"Really sorry."

But somehow not as sorry as I was when we walked back in. The class was talking quietly, paired off and huddled over their papers. If I didn't know better I would have said that no one noticed us. Shiraishi and I sat at our desks for a few minutes, neither of us talking, just basking in the awkward terror of the entire room.

I stared hard at the list of approved poems. "I don't know any of these," I mumbled.

Shirashi moved his chair a little closer to mine and I almost flinched. He tapped his pen against our combined desks. "Do you have a favorite poem?"

"I think so."

"Let's do that one."

Mr. Fujisaki was making his way around the room, observing and answering questions that kids asked out of a dictionary. "Have you chosen a poem yet?" He looked down at me, like he expected something pretty fucking fantastic from us.

"It's not on the list but, would we be able to do _The Colonel _by Caroline Forché?"

"Ah…" But somehow he looked pleased. "The ears pressed to the floor. Go ahead."

"I haven't read it," Shirashi shrugged, tapping the bandage box on his desk to see if the beetle was still revolting.

I tried to smile, but couldn't. "It changed my life."

A girl stood up somewhere behind me and while she wove in between the pairs of desks, she bumped into mine, dropping a small piece of folded paper onto the list of poems.

I snatched it while Shirashi was reading over the rubric.

"So we just translate it, and then write a short sentence or two about some of the words or phrases that gave us the most trouble…"

BUTTON UP SLUT

* * *

After school I told Shiraishi I was going home, that I didn't feel well and he knew I was half-lying but that was alright. One sour trip to the bathroom and I had seen the patches of bruises down my neck. I loved them, I loved remembering them but I couldn't live with them. The uniform's buttons wouldn't cover them all.

But I saw Chitose waiting at the front gate.

"Are you not taking the bus today?"

"Why don't we walk?"

I shrugged, "Alright."

He spun around, almost cheerful, and we headed down the road.

"Nice hickies," He said through a smile.

"Fuck off," I said.

"No really, admirable work…"

"Tell that to my entire class."

"Oh, Brainchild, you can't let it get to you."

"Brilliant advice," I snarled. "What's next? _Just be yourself_?"

Then I realized where we were. We were at a playground for children, a small patch of woodchips beyond the gate and road and skyscrapers. Alone, listlessly swinging on a swing, was Haruka.

"I would never suggest you be yourself," Chitose whispered above me. He walked away, leaving me at this gate.

I shrugged to myself, making my way around the gate and across the playground. I ignored the big plastic slide and the monkey bars and the hopscotch and the tunnels and the four-foot climbing wall, and I sat on the other swing next to Haruka.

"How does it feel? To finally have people out there who don't like you?" She asked.

"Do rumors spread _that_ fast? Like, I thought that was just a thing in movies. I didn't think people really cared that much." I looked at her, "No one's ever hated me before."

She ticked at me, running her fingers through her beautiful, long hair, looking for split ends that didn't exist. "No, no one hates you yet. But they will. They will if you avoid it, and they will if you own it."

"So it's a lose-lose situation?"

Haruka was silent for a while. She had given up on her hair but still looked like she wasn't ready to look at me. "Bullying, you know…it taps into shit you didn't know you had inside you. If I were you, I would flaunt that shit and rub it in those desperate girls' faces. I would make the biggest show of it and I would make them hate me for having what they didn't. But, you know, I'm not you. You're kind. You're funny. You're humble. And I know you don't want to make anyone feel bad about themselves, so you have to let them know. Let the other girls know that you're a real person."

"I think that you think this is a bigger deal than it really is. Girls show up to class with hickies all the time. Rumors exist about lots of people. Why would people waste their time talking about me?"

Haruka looked at me sadly, "Because they see more in you than you do."

* * *

Later, when I was in bed and almost asleep, my phone buzzed me awake. Drowsy and angry I groaned at the bright light.

_Shiraishi: The beetle will be from this day forward known to the world as The Colonel. You may not miss him, but he misses you and hopes that one day you will warm up to him. Underneath this hard shell is a simple beetle looking for love. _


	18. Fun

Fun

"H-Hey, Kenya, can I talk to you for a second?"

I watched Shiraishi's lips turn upwards as he watched Kenya follow Nakayama outside the classroom.

I tried to act like I didn't notice people staring at me. It wasn't like I got glares from everyone I looked at, or that girls laughed at me when I wasn't looking, but sometimes when I made accidental eye contact with someone, it was a reminder to both of us that the collar of my shirt was insufficient. It was like I was keeping the memory alive just by existing.

And every time Shiraishi would nudge me with his elbow or breathe at me or tap my foot with his or smile at me or adjust his shoulders or stick his tongue out a little while he was concentrating, I would flinch, internally and externally. I wanted him to know that because of him I didn't feel safe in my own body anymore.

As if it was somehow more his fault than mine.

Kenya and Nakayama came back in, looking exactly the same as when they left. Kenya sat down behind me, putting his feet up on the back of my seat.

I spent the whole class focusing on the tapping that reverberated up the chair.

When lunchtime came, Haruka swept me off to the rooftop with An and Yukari.

"What do you guys think he means by that?" Yukari asked, passing her phone to An.

"That you're overacting," Haruka said, leaning back against the fence like she was totally unafraid of it breaking behind her and falling off the roof to her death.

"You haven't even read the text."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Yukari try to take her phone back from An, who, in turn, held it out of her reach. "I'm not done…" she mumbled.

I stared out through the holes in the links of metal, out over the roads and cars and people.

"Because it kind of sounds like he wants to ask me out but like, does he want me to make a move?"

"Then make a move."

"But what if I'm wrong?"

"You probably are."

"There's no reason to overthink it," An said, finally handing the phone back to Yukari. "If a guy likes you, he is gonna find a way to try and make it happen. You don't have to make it easy but, you know, go at your own pace."

"Easy for you to say, every guy in class has a crush on you." Yukari stared at her phone bitterly. "It's like whatever we do, you're like, the steak and I'm the side salad."

An sighed at Yukari, "I don't _care_ about them."

"Hisae…" Yukari groaned, "what do you think? These two suck at giving advice."

I thought about her side dish scenario. It was true with some people; everyone knew it but no one said anything. People like An and Shiraishi were attractive to almost everyone. They had vibes that I couldn't really understand. An must have known. How could you go through your entire life without knowing why strangers wanted to talk to you? Why you made friends so easily? Why boys texted you first?

I wondered if Kenya ever felt like a side salad.

"I think that a lot of people have problems. Some people have eating disorders and depression and use drugs and are literally never happy. Some people have war in their countries. And I think if the only cause of anxiety in your life is trying to decipher a text from a teenage boy—I think you're _fine_."

Haruka looked up from her lunchbox, eyeing me like she was trying to decide if I was being mean or not. I don't know why I didn't care. I kinda felt like Yukari was the kind of friend you could genuinely just shit on and she would still come back.

"I guess you're right," Yukari said, still staring at her phone. "I just…I just really like him. Like, I've never liked someone so soon after meeting them, you know? No one has ever made me feel so great after just like, five minutes. That has to mean something, right?"

No one really said anything after that.

When I was back in my seat, trying to ignore everything around me and just become invisible, Nakayama swayed up to my desk, hands hesitant to touch it.

"Um, hi," She said.

I looked up at her, not in the mood to talk.

"Can I sit here for a second?" She gestured to Shirashi's unoccupied seat before carefully sitting down, as if she was afraid it would collapse under her.

"Um I just wanted to…to apologize." She nodded to herself as if satisfied with the word she had chosen.

"The other day…my friend she, she wrote something really mean to you and I didn't want to make a scene in class and I just, watched her do it and I'm really sorry and I won't let her do it again."

"Thanks…I guess."

"And I'll make sure no one says anything mean about you, yeah? I promise."

I wanted to listen to Haruka and I wanted to show people that I was a real person and that I could be nice and friendly. But I also wanted to flip a desk and rip my hair out and stop being a person so I could be nothing.

"Do what you want."

I don't think that was what Nakayama was looking for. As if I gave a shit what she thought. Even though I knew I would later. I would think about what she might think of me before I went to bed and tomorrow and the next day after that.

"Um…yeah okay…"

Shiraishi and Kenya came back, followed by a bunch of rowdy classmates.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nakayama stand up, like she was trying so hard to be normal, as if she didn't know she owned the classroom.

It started raining then. And the realization that I didn't bring an umbrella was enough to send me into cardiac arrest. My socks, my shoes, my hair, my shirt. Everything was gonna come undone the moment that bell rang.

And it rang.

I heard Kenya let out a breath behind me, "No practice today…"

In no time at all, Shiraishi, Kenya, Chitose and I were standing under the last overhead coverage that the school had to offer. Just as I was about to swallow my pride and take a step into the tempest, Shiraishi pulled an umbrella out of his duffle bag. "Just in case…"

"Aw man," Kenya groaned. "Why do you _always_ have that?"

"It's your own fault," Chitose said, bringing his own umbrella to life. "You need to be prepared for anything."

"You make it sound like it's life or death…"

"Well it might save your life one day."

"An umbrella?"

"Preparedness."

Shiriashi stepped on my foot, gently. I didn't need to see the umbrella over my head to know it was there. Chitose stepped out into the rain, leaving a frantic Kenya by the front doors.

"Wow—wow dude! Hey let me under!" Kenya bolted after us, throwing himself into Chitose for the safety of his umbrella.

The two fumbled before both managing to compress themselves under the umbrella.

Chitose was so tall that Kenya struggled to get any protection at all.

Almost home-free.

Just the main gate—

And all it took was one look from a harsh-looking girl, surrounded by her six or so friends for me to realise that I had been naive. It was stupid to think that just because I was in high school now, people would stop being mean. I realized that moment, when that girl gave me the nastiest look I had ever seen on a person, that my life was never going to not be hard.

Maybe I had seen that look before. I had seen it on my own face in the mirror after I sat on my mom's chest, knees into her shoulders and shoved pills past her tongue.

It was disgust.

And after, after everything it only made me feel worse about myself for trying to do things right.

"Is something wrong?"

I looked up, feeling the ghosts of raindrops on my face. Chitose, with his giraffe legs and Kenya, with his power walking gold medal were far ahead, through the rain; they were so in the present.

"Because—"

"I'm mad," I said, staring at the ground and picking up my pace. "I'm mad because Haruka was right. I'm mad because people are mean for no reason. I'm mad at myself for being mad. I'm mad that you're never gonna get shit for this. I'm mad that people don't like me—"

I finally spun around, ready to take a deep breath and talk this out but…I had been walking too fast. I looked up at the black canvas above my head and down to the water soaking up Shiraishi's shirt as he held the umbrella in his outstretched hand. For me.

"I'm sorry," He said, making no effort to come under the umbrella. "I shouldn't have brought you to the infirmary and…and now _this_ is all I can do." The umbrella faltered a little. "And that makes me mad."

I didn't know what to do.

I had thought, for some stupid reason that Shiraishi was oblivious to everything that made me uncomfortable. As if his perfection put him on a completely different plane than me and that I was going to be alone and bullied and he wasn't going to even notice. But I wasn't brave enough to keep that a secret anyway, to handle stress on my own. It would seep through invisible cracks and infect everyone around me and everyone would _know _that I couldn't handle the opinions of others.

I stared at Shiraishi's face for a little while. If nothing else, we were pretty good at talking to each other. I didn't think that would ever go away. And if nothing else, that was something. If nothing else I was being capable, I was expressive. And that meant something to me. That was proof of change.

"Okay," Shiraishi said, smiling.

"Okay," I nodded.

"Come _on_!"

I jumped at Kenya, down the street hollering at us.

But Shiraishi ignored him. "Do you want to come grocery shopping with me?"

"What?"

"Grocery shopping." He finally stepped under the umbrella with me.

I looked, over his shoulder at the group of girls huddled beneath their own umbrellas as they started to make their way down the street.

Fuck them.

"Yeah, yeah okay."

The rain started to ease up after that. I felt like a goddess. We said goodbye to Chitose and Kenya and made our way down the opposite direction of my house. I lost my sense of direction pretty quickly, but it was evident that Shiraishi knew every inch of the West end. I feel like he was one of those people that could tell which direction he was facing, no matter where he was. Which to me, was both unfair and pure magic.

"How do you feel about kale?" He asked.

"I've never really thought about it."

"Never?"

"Okay, how often a day do you think about vegetables?"

He actually looked a little bit embarrassed, or, as close as someone like him could get to embarrassed. "I really…like vegetables…" He mumbled.

"I suppose I could stand to think about kale more often in my daily life."

Shiraishi looked up at the sky, moving the umbrella away. "Looks like they didn't need to cancel practice after all…" He folded up the umbrella and shook it into an alleyway. "We were talking about having practice matches with Rikkai in two weeks."

I watched him wrap the umbrella in a plastic bag and put it gingerly into his duffle. "Oh," Was all I said. But then I thought more about Kirihara, and Yukimura, and Niou and Marui and how Rikkai seemed so different from Shitenhouji and I wondered if Shiraishi ever wanted to be more like them. "Do you really hate Yukimura?" I asked.

He looked down at me, a little confused but then shrugged. "No, I don't think so. I hate what he's done, and I think that, no matter what I will always wonder what else he is capable of, and that's unsettling. But I don't think I hate him."

And then I felt a wave of frustration, with myself. I was mad at people I didn't even know. I decided I hated that girl who gave me a mean look when I had no idea who she really was—or what she was capable of. Here, Shiraishi clearly knew things I didn't, bad things about Yukimura and he was still a better person than me.

"Maybe it will be good—to practice with them, I mean."

He nodded, but I could tell he wasn't really thinking about the matches.

"You're having fun though, right? With tennis this year?"

I knew the answer so I don't know why I asked it.

"It's not about having fun, for me." He ran his fingers through his hair, as if not liking the sound of his own voice. "It's about making sure everyone else is having fun but still winning. I guess I'll never grow out of that but, fun motivates people like nothing else. There is no substitute for genuine passion."

It was like watching a video when the audio was a few seconds off. Shiraishi was right, he was always right but somehow this felt like a lie, coming from him.

"So…" I said, "where is this grocery store?"

"It's the new organic one—just across from the flower shop, only about…twelve minutes away."

Shiraishi clearly never needed to estimate anything. His concept of time was so immaculate I found myself clocking it. But the flower shop came into view with only a minute left.

"Are you, are you _timing_ me?"

"Nope," I said, putting my phone back in my bag.

The organic grocery store seemed like everything Shiraishi was if you put him in commerce form. So many things were just powder. So many nuts and beeswax candles and meditation crystals. The shelves were lined with vitamins and tea and granola bars. Shiraishi grabbed a plastic basket from a stack on the floor, then he took a grocery list out of his pocket.

When we had gone to the convenient store, back in middle school, it hadn't felt like a date. This didn't either. This felt like a date without any pressure. This felt pleasantly domestic. As I watched Shiraishi read off the list of things he needed, I realized I wasn't listening to the ingredients. I was listening to the sound of his voice and the barely-there sound of him running his fingers over the wrinkles in the paper. But now he was looking at me expectantly and I didn't know why.

"Sorry—what?"

"Are you allergic to anything?"

"Um…no, no I don't think so…"

"Good." He smiled pleasantly and started walking down an isle filled with different variations of gluten-free rice.

Just then I realized how content I was to just watch and follow him around the store. He would ask me how I felt about mushrooms or cooking sauces and I said I didn't care because I didn't. If Shiraishi liked mushrooms, I liked mushrooms. If Shiraishi cared about cooking sauce, I cared about cooking sauce. And I felt so uncharacteristically at peace that no one else's feelings mattered. No one's but ours. _That_ felt like the early stages of something consuming and selfish. It felt like something I had never expected. Not someone like me. Someone like me who never gets anything, whose life _just barely_ works out, the things I want slipping by because never, never in my life has anything worked out just because I wanted it.

"…my mom always says that there's no difference between olive oil and canola oil but there totally is. That's probably why my mother doesn't cook…"

Some girls get to fall in love multiple times. Some girls just have vibes that draw people to them—they're lucky and never have to work for friendship because the universe just gives it to them, it hands them romance and friends and attention. And some girls don't. Some girls don't get the guy; sometimes they don't get any guy, or any girl or any friends or any attention. And it sucks. It sucks to want something, you want this _one thing _to work out and sometimes you get so close and then…then everything you want somehow just _doesn't work out _for you.

"Where I used to live, we knew the guy who had his own farm. We got all our eggs, meat and milk from him so I felt a lot better about what I ate…"

But this…Shiraishi and An and Kenya and…it didn't happen to people like me. People who think they can never end up happy in one place with one person. Restless, messed up people who can't stay happy for more than a day.

"Sorry, I guess it might be a little bit boring. I just really enjoy food." He was smiling but in the last moment I knew he could see me looking like I was unsure of the hand I had been dealt. "I feel like I'm always asking you if you're alright…"

"Do I look, not-alright?"

"Not always."

"You don't _have_ to ask, you know."

He looked away, read the nutrition values on the back of a can of chick peas without looking at me. "I'll work on better understanding the line between attentive and pushy."

Not everything is your fault, I wanted to say. But I didn't.

* * *

"I had figured that the first time I was in you room, there would be less plants." I looked around; books had to share shelf space with cactuses, the sunlight fed directly into a hanging flowery plant, and I could see that beyond the door in the corner was a little balcony that was filled with more, undistinguishable plants. "I mean I figured there would be some, obviously, maybe some vines going up the sides of your walls but this…this is too much."

Shiraishi laughed, tossing our school bags onto his perfectly manicured bed. "Maybe I should have warned you?" He made his way over to a desk, where vitamins were lined up in accordance with their height, and tapped on a plastic cage. "The Colonel is doing really well. Come say hi."

I leaned my elbows on the desk, glaring into the little beetle sanctuary. "Hello, asshole."

We made our way downstairs. The house was like one of those houses in a magazine. Nuclear and so, so clean. No plants though, so, that was something. I wanted to ask him what his parents did for a living, but that might have been rude. I remembered my dusty coffee table, the cereal stuck in my sofa, the clumps of my sister's and my hair in our shower.

Before we reached the kitchen, Shiraishi froze, holding out his arm to stop me. He held a finger to his lips and, confused, I watched him slink around the sort of half-wall between the dining room and kitchen. He carefully took off his school jacket and in one swift motion, tossed it around the corner. I heard the animal before I saw it: a sharp, bitter snarl before the cat itself emerged, trapped under the jacket, feral and furious.

Shiraishi dove at the creature, picking it up before running back to the door and tossing the cat outside. He came back in, looking like he had just vanquished an actual monster.

I rushed over, trying so hard not to smile, "I owe you my life, stranger."

Shiraishi couldn't keep it together and burst into laughter. "I'm sorry I just…I just really don't like that cat."

Apparently the ingredients I hadn't really watched Shiraishi buy were for soup. I said I didn't know how to make soup, but he said it didn't matter because there was no way I could mess it up. Just to be safe though, I put myself on chopping duty. There were onions, leeks, carrots, noodles that were somehow also vegetables, yellow zucchini, scallions, and what might have been a turnip.

"Where's the meat?" I asked, half-joking.

"My dad's a vegetarian."

I almost cut my finger off.

Reflexively, I took a rather large piece of carrot and chucked it across the counter at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He caught the carrot, which was really going to bother me later.

"No no," He held his hands up in defence but was still smiling. "My dad is at a pharmaceutical conference until tomorrow. And my mom is at book club tonight. I'm not gonna throw you into the lions' den just like that. You're just gonna have to put up with me and my little sister tonight."

I flung another carrot, "Why didn't you tell me?" But I was laughing.


	19. Sisters

Sisters

When the young girl came in, she made no sounds. But there was visible fear on her face when she saw me, standing in the kitchen, alone. We both froze like two awkward deer before tentative headlights. But then Shiraishi came back down the stairs talking about basil and I wasn't listening.

"Oh—Yukari, you're home."

The girl almost jumped, but started to breathe again. She softened, nodding and blushing.

Shiraishi smiled down at her, patting her on the head affectionately and I couldn't help but smile. "This is Hisae," He said, waving a handful of basil leaves in my direction. "I think she's pretty cool." He smiled at me. "And this is my little sister, Yukari number two. Number one for me though."

The girl wrinkled her nose at him, giving me an indecipherable look. She took what looked like a painfully deep breath, "Hello."

"Hey," I said rather dumbly.

"Dinner will be ready in an hour or so, alright?"

Suddenly, the girl's face illuminated. "Invite Kenya," She demanded through a small smile. She began to relax into her surroundings, like she remembered that it was all hers and none of it was mine and she had all the power. Not that she seemed oriented that way, but it's shitty, feeling like your home isn't yours.

"I'm not going to become an enabler," Shiraishi grinned as he began cutting up pieces of the leaves.

"It's like Yoko is starting to groom him," Yukari said, leaning on the counter watching her brother intently.

They looked nothing alike. Maybe they had the same nose or upper lip, but you couldn't really tell they were related just by looking at them. Yukari was pretty small, with cute pigtails and sort of erratic, strained eyes. She looked like she was in some state of recovery, upon coming home.

Her eyes darted towards me, "Yoko is our older sister."

"The favorite," Shiraishi added. "She's in university studying art history and political science."

"What a great combination…"

"So are you just going to ignore me?"

This girl seemed completely different from the one I had entered into a staring contest with a few minutes ago. She looked unrested. She looked agitated. She looked like she had a million different things to say at once.

"I would never do that."

"You should invite Kenya."

"Okay, okay, you win again." Shiraishi pulled out his phone and I just stared into the soup. It smelled really good. An hour seemed like kind of a long time to wait. I watched Yukari snatch Shiraishi's phone out of his hands even after he insisted he sent the text.

Apparently satisfied, Yukari tossed it back, shrugging. "See you in an hour." And she turned, grabbed her bag off the floor and rushed upstairs without another word.

"Sorry," Shiraishi said, "she's a little weary of strangers. She'll warm up to you."

"You said the same thing about Kenya."

"And I was right."

"Does your sister like him?"

Shiraishi stepped on my foot and took the wooden spoon from my hand so he could stir the soup in a way that was apparently better. "Yeah, I guess. I think she just misses being around the team."

"She's lucky," I said. "Getting to hang out with all you boys."

"Can _you_ imagine growing up with Romeo and Juliet?"

I thought about that time Yuuji spit his gum into Koharu's mouth.

"No."

I leaned in, over the soup to take in another delicious, salty whiff. Shiraishi moved a piece of my hair out of the steam. He turned the heat down and put a class top on the pot. "Now we let it simmer."

I heard his phone vibrate from across the counter but when I looked up, he was still looking at me.

I wasn't sure if I was about to say something stupid, or take my shirt off right there, but we heard the crash of the front door.

"What up, family number two?" Kenya shouted through the hallway. He rolled in, throwing his bag across the floor and flopping down at the kitchen table. "Ugh, Chitose was in this, fantastic mood and wouldn't stop talking to me how he figured out his entire life after high school. Oh, and I invited Zaizen if that's cool." He kicked his shoes off under the table. "Where's Little Shiraishi at?"

He didn't pick up on my locked jaw and angry eyes.

"What's for dinner?"

Shiraishi didn't seem phased by anything, ever, and just smiled. "She's upstairs doing homework, and soup." He leaned back on the counter. "When is Zaizen coming?"

Kenya shrugged, taking out his phone and texting.

I tried to roll my eyes at Shiraishi but he just tapped his foot against mine.

I wasn't sure if I was ready to see Zaizen again. I didn't think he was the type to tell anyone about my panic attack, but I also wasn't sure I could control my own physical reaction to imaginary tension. I looked up at Kenya, only to see him look back down at his phone.

Eventually we moved to the table, taking out our homework and just sitting there in the gentle scratches of pencils. After about twenty minutes Yukari came down and scooted her chair up next to Kenya and whispered for help with a history paper. The atmosphere marked with pencils became thick with historical dates and great battles.

I leaned over Shiraishi's arm to look at what he was working on. Chemical equations. I wrinkled my nose.

"Would you rather work on our poem?" He asked. He was too close to my face so I shook my head and went back to English grammar drills. I wasn't ready to translate the brutality of the poem while I was in such a tranquil state of mind.

"Zaizen's on his way," Kenya mumbled, before pulling Yukari's textbook closer and pouring over it.

I nudged Shiraishi's foot with mine. He didn't look up, but he smiled.

As time went on my face got closer and closer to the book until I was opening my eyes against the pages. I pulled away from Shiraishi's arm and stretched when I heard the door open. Zaizen strolled in, also throwing his bag to the floor.

"If you had told me you guys were just studying, I would have stayed home," Zaizen said, making his way over to the stove and lifting up the glass lid. He took a whiff.

"But now you get to be in the company of such esteemed persons as the renowned Little Shiraishi and Sleeping Beauty."

"Is that me?" I asked.

"That's you," Shiraishi said.

"And fucking—fucking _you_," Kenya pointed a shaking finger at Shiraishi, "staring at Hisae while she's face-down in her homework."

"Oh _wow_," Zaizen said, "I _can't_ imagine _anywhere_ I'd rather be." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "The soup smells good."

"Thanks Zaizen, you can tell _Kenya_ what it tastes like since he won't be having any," Shiraishi hissed.

Kenya tossed up his middle fingers across the table.

"Hey, there are innocent eyes at this table!" Yukari shrieked.

The timer for the soup went off.

Our books and pencils were tossed aside almost immediately. Kenya even swiped his into the floor before Yukari made him pick it up. There was stepping on each other's feet, gentle elbows, and I'm pretty sure Yukari smelled me on the way to get bowls and a ladle.

Zaizen poured me an extra-large bowl of soup, looking at me out of the corner of his eye and reminding me that we had a secret.

We all sat back down, Zaizen alone on my left, Shiraishi on my right, and Kenya and Yukari across from us. Everyone on my father's side of the family ate in silence. Like once food was set in front of us, it became our number one priority and we couldn't talk until the food had been honored to completion. Eating in silence had never been strange until now. Kenya and Yukari and Shiraishi didn't _stop_ talking. I even looked at Zaizen just to make sure I wasn't the only one being weird—but he was just smiling softly at his soup like it had just given him a nice compliment.

"So when do you wanna go get new grip tape?"

"This one boy in my class is so obnoxious…"

"Gin said there was an excellent sporting goods store across from the mall…"

"And he literally said that _in front_ of the teacher!"

"Oh, and are we actually gonna do those matches with Rikkai?"

"How is Kirihara doing?"

Then Shiraishi's phone buzzed. I didn't think he was going to answer it but then a confused look made its way onto his face.

The table grew silent.

"It's…Atobe."

Kenya choked on his soup. Zaizen lifted his eyes away from his food for half a second. Yukari just looked confused.

"Oh man, Atobe is so thirsty for you—"

Shiraishi gave Kenya a look that shut him up real fast.

"He wants to practice with us next week."

"Oh man, yes please, please Kura please! I don't wanna practice with Rikkai—they're the worst."

"They really are," Zaizen cooed to his soup.

"I would assume he is already the captain of Hyotei's tennis club."

"Classic Atobe."

"Who is Atobe?" I finally asked.

Another silence fell upon the table. Kenya looked into my eyes across the table, "The most annoying person in the entire world."

"He is?"

"The _most_."

"Kenya, he isn't that bad…" Shiraishi looked at me with a little uncertainty, "Atobe isn't that bad."

"He is literally the most hated person!" Kenya cried. "Name one person _everyone_ hates more."

"I'm not going to—"

"The redhead on his team."

Kenya seemed to consider this. "_Second_ worst person in the entire world."

"Apparently the courts at his…mansion...are…there are bedbugs. And—oh—that was supposed to be kept to myself."

Kenya burst into laughter. Zaizen sipped his soup.

"But apparently there are other courts that he owns…this message is like a novel…he can send buses…" Shiraishi trailed off but I could see the light of hope in Kenya's eyes.

Kenya leaned across the table, palms clenched together, "Please Kura. I am your best friend. Please do this for me."

Shiraishi raised an eyebrow, "I'm not the captain."

"You kind of are."

"Literally, no."

"But kind of, yeah."

Shiraishi sighed, "I'll see what Kou thinks about it…" He stood up, calling who I assumed was the actual captain and stepping out of the room.

Zaizen nodded at his soup.

Kenya looked up at the ceiling, praying, "Thank you, Atobe. Thank you for saving us from the demons of Rikkai, thank you for saving us from getting crushed once again, thank you Atobe for having a crush on my best friend. Thank you Shiraishi for being too nice to say no…ever. Thank you," He whispered to the ceiling fan.

I made awkward eye contact with Yukari, "I didn't believe them when they said everyone liked Shiraishi but, _everyone_ does, don't they?"

Almost immediately I knew I had said something wrong. Yukari stood up, sharply, she strode to the sink when Shiraishi came back in. "Don't worry about the dishes," He said, "I'll do the—"

Yukari practically threw the bowl into the sink, her whole body rigid as she shoved passed her brother and down the hall. Shiraishi, still on the phone and confused, didn't stop me when I bolted past him too.

I caught Yukari halfway up the stairs, "Hey, I'm sorry if I said something wrong—I really wanna be your friend—"

Yukari spun around, sinking down into the steps. It was remarkably like the scene with my Yukari.

"You have _no_ idea what it's like…" Yukari whispered, trying to keep tears in her eyes and off her cheeks. "_Everyone_ loves him. He always has friends. "

Something clicked.

"Do you know me?" I asked. From the change in her face I knew I had found something. "Or, you know my sister right?" Airi? Airi Sumeragi? She's in your class isn't she?" I inched my way up the stairs, towards her. This time she was the scared animal and I was on the outside.

"I don't deserve to be mad but…but sometimes I…I _hate_ him."

I stopped, a couple steps away from her, my hands and knees on the hardwood.

"In school…the girls they…they just wanted to be my friend so they could meet him. And then, when he graduated…it was all a lie. They all lied to me. Because of him I have no friends. Not even fake ones. Fake friends are better than none, you know? Nothing is worse than being alone. _Nothing_."

"I don't know…"I said, "I think if he knew, it would be worse. You know better than anyone, how bad that would make both of you feel."

But Yukari did cry, then. She buried her face in her knees. "I know…I know…" She straightened up and shook out her hands, the way I did when I was having a panic attack. But she was better. She was better than me. "It just, sucks because Kura is never going to know what it's like to be made fun of. He is never going to understand what it's like when someone makes you feel so shitty about yourself. When they…when they don't let you talk. When you're in a room and you realize that no one cares about you, or what you have to say…" She rubbed her eyes. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…This is stupid I don't even know you…"

I hovered there, crawling up the stairs like a dog. Balancing on my knees and my left hand, I offered her my right. "It's nice to finally meet you, Yukari." I felt myself smile. "My name's Hisae."

She stared down at me, hesitant and still a little angry. But then something miraculous happened. She smiled back. She looked embarrassed, so embarrassed but, covering as much of her own face as she could with one hand, she took mine in her other, shaking it gently. "N-Nice to meet you too."

* * *

Shiraishi handed me my bag. "Hey, so, sorry about tonight…when Atobe gets into one of those moods it's hard to get away from it. Even on the phone…" He sat down on his bed. "I wanted you to forget about the last couple days at school, you know?"

I looked down at him and ruffled his hair. I knew Yukari was right. I knew Shiraishi had never been bullied in his life and probably never would be. He must think something like that was so foreign. Even when he leaned into my hand and smiled and closed his eyes, he had no idea what his sister was going through. And he would think it was all his fault. And he wouldn't know how to fix it. And I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. No one would win.

* * *

The sun was setting when Kenya and Zaizen and I left the house.

"Dude," Kenya said, elbowing me, "you know what this means right?"

"What?"

"This means you're gonna have to _meet_ Atobe."

"I'd rather not, you know?"

Zaizen shoved two fingers in my face and made a "tss-tss" sound.

"No," Kenya said, "he's gonna make you go. And this will be your greatest challenge yet. You have to be nice, but not _too_ nice. And don't try to be too cool either, because he's gonna see right through that."

"You make it sound like this guy is going to decide how the rest of my life goes…"

Kenya exchanged looked with Zaizen. "Not exactly. But Atobe is kind of more than a mom than Kura is so…he's probably super involved in people's lives."

"Classic Atobe," Zaizen muttered. He stopped walking when we got into the subway station. "I'm this way," He said to me when I looked at him, a little confused.

"Hey, I can ask Kura if you and Kin can come to the practice too," Kenya offered, a strange sort of hope in his eyes.

I saw it reflect in Zaizen's, but the boy shook his head and turned away, only to look back and say goodbye, then nod to himself like a pat on the back for remembering it, and then disappearing to catch his own subway.

"Two steps forward, one step back…" Kenya mumbled.

I thought that Zaizen was probably the most different, out of the group. I guess I saw a little bit of myself in him. The bit that is never sure how good of friends I am with someone. He might still be afraid of their kindness, or their weirdness, or whatever. But I didn't want to make assumptions. Not once did he mention tennis at the middle school, or Kintaro. I just couldn't get a read on him. I had no idea what he was even about.

Kenya seemed to notice that I wasn't all present and nudged me. "But don't worry, I'm sure Atobe will like you."

"I don't give a fuck whether or not this Atobe guy likes me. I don't care if he thinks I'm unworthy of being Shiraishi's girlfriend, or if he thinks I'm fake, or pretentious, or rude, or weird, or bland. Because nothing he could ever say to me would be something I haven't told myself already."

I didn't know why I thought Kenya would be surprised. But as we were waiting for our subway he sighed. "I can't talk you out of this one…"

"Shit…" I said, rubbing my forehead. "I didn't mean to…"

_Side salad._

"Nah dude, I get it."

_Slut._

The subway roared down the line, blowing hot air in our faces. I closed my eyes to it. Letting the feverish wind roll across my face.

"Hmm…I wonder if Atobe will send the jet."

"The _what_?"

* * *

_Next up is Hyotei. Get excited. _


	20. Atobe

_Another character I have a super hard time writing is Atobe. I need to work on that thin line between narcissistic and charismatic. _

* * *

Atobe

When I woke up this morning, I knew the entire day was going to be a struggle. Not just because of the image of a private jet smashing into my skull, but because I knew it would take an emotional beating to get me out of the mood I was in. My body felt heavy, my head felt heavier. The familiarity of the fucked up fog made me nauseated. Some days I got like this. Like I couldn't remember the last time I was happy, or I couldn't imagine ever being close to happiness again. I wanted to crawl deeper into my bed. I wanted to disappear and not be a person anymore.

I checked my phone. Yukari asked something about how I was going to do my hair today. I craned my neck to check myself out in the full-length mirror across the room. The only good part about these types of days is that I don't care how ugly I look, because these types of days, I don't care about myself.

I stumbled out of my constant warmth, left foot painfully asleep. I brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, washed my face, and came back into my room, only to stare at myself in that mirror. I stared at the gross parts of me, the parts covered up by pajamas and strange bruises. I always had bruises. I wanted to go for a run, but I didn't have time. I finally looked away, pulling on jeans and a baseball shirt. I even put on a little makeup. Not to look prettier, but to make people think that I thought I did.

After looking at myself again from every conceivable angle, I made my way downstairs. My mother was sitting alone at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and smoking, our smoke detector sat to her left, obviously torn from the ceiling.

"Morning," I said.

"I found these in your room," My mother said, flicking the ash onto a dirty plate left on the counter. "Didn't know you smoked."

I shrugged, "I don't. I tried, but they kind of made me feel sick." I poured myself my own cup of coffee and sat across from my mother. The important thing was to let her know that she didn't scare you.

"I haven't smoked in years," She said, watching the orange crawl over the white, turning it to ash. "I used to be able to do rings." She took a drag, inhaling thickly and trying to make a circle with her mouth. But the smoke wouldn't mold itself to her lips and sort of fell out.

Looking into my mug of coffee, I realized I hadn't put any milk or sugar in it.

"Airi told me that you have a boyfriend."

I didn't say anything.

"I want to meet him."

"Yeah, maybe, I'll see what he's up to this weekend."

There was no way I was going to let that happen. There was no way I would survive if my two worlds collided. Everything that had ever messed up my life had been my mother's doing. Or maybe mine, but sometimes I felt like I was my mother so it didn't make a difference to me.

* * *

I found Kenya asleep on Shiraishi's lap at the bus stop. "Am I late?" I asked, even though I knew I wasn't. I was a half-hour early.

Kenya groaned, Shiraishi looked up at me and smiled, then shrugged down at his friend. "This one would have slept right through the alarm if I didn't bring him with me."

"It is seven in the morning!" Kenya cried, "I am the normal one! This is bullshit…"

I shrugged, checking my phone. Haruka said she would be here any minute. I felt a little awkward so I sat down next to Shiraishi and Kenya. "Are you sure it's alright that we're coming…"

"You are an honorary member of the tennis club," Shiraishi said simply.

"Not really though…"

"Haruka's got you covered," Kenya mumbled back. Suddenly he shot up. "Yo, did you remember to invite Gin?"

Shiraishi nodded, "Atobe asked for him especially to help Kabaji."

Gin actually arrived five minutes after that sentence. He sat next to me with his eyes closed and started to meditate. The scene was pretty tranquil, actually: we all sat in silence while Kenya picked at his shoelaces and Shiraishi and I kept stepping on each other's feet and Gin sat with his palms up to the sun.

I heard footsteps before I felt Haruka's foot in the middle of my back, "You're wearing your hair like _that_?" In an in instant she sat behind me, tugging my hair back, "Not while I'm here to help you."

"Ow! I don't care how my hair looks!"

Haruka leaned over me, smelling sharp and fierce and looking even sharper and fiercer. "Well, since you're so shitty at making first impressions, your looks are all you have."

"Okay that's unnecessary," Shiraishi said.

Keyna shrugged, "Meh…"

Despite my initial protests and the pain in my scalp, I ended up leaning back against Haruka's knees. No one had ever done my hair before.

"I think you look great," Shirashi said.

"Gross," Kenya said.

"It's okay," I said, leaning back to look at Haruka, "I trust her."

Haruka rolled her eyes and tried to hide a smile, "Stop moving so much."

Eventually Yuuji and Koharu arrived, gloomily holding hands and bickering back and forth.

"What's up with you two?" Shiraishi asked. "You're not gonna beat Oshitari and Gakuto with those attitudes…"

Kenya scoffed, "First of all, Yuushi is _mine_—"

"Yeah Koharu, tell everyone how excited you are to see Shishido in action!"

"I _just _said that I wondered if he has gotten any hotter, but clearly you read more into it!"

"Of course I read into it! You're a_lways_ drooling over him! And practically everyone on the Hyotei team!"

"I can't help it if they all look like Greek statues!"

"There you go again!"

By then everyone had started to ignore them.

"There you go," Haruka said, tying an elastic around my hair. I couldn't see it, but I reached back and felt some sort of braid. It felt delicate and ornate and perfect.

"Still great," Shiraish in my ear.

Before the goosebumps got to my toes, the rest of the team that were just faces with bodies showed up. I could tell that there was something different between the two groups. They were still one team, one school, but they weren't the team I knew.

"Where's Kenjirou?" Kenya suddenly asked.

Shiraishi glared at him, "He literally goes to a different high school."

"What?"

"He is literally in America right now at a private high school in New Hampshire."

"Where the fuck is New Hampshire?"

Then the bus came. Everyone else and I could probably tell it was meant for us because it was enormous. And shiny. And had an Atobe Corp. logo on the side. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding and Shiraishi nudged me with his foot. I hadn't even noticed he was standing. He reached out his hand, helping me up. Being close enough to smell him helped my nerves, his hand on my lower back however, did not.

Thank god Shiraishi didn't sit next to me on the bus though. Haruka snagged me and we sat behind Yuuji and Koharu, still arguing. Kenya groaned when Shiraishi sat next to whoever the real captain was and took a sulking spot behind Haruka and me. I tried not to look at the rest of the team, because they looked confused as to why Haruka and I were going, but they seemed to get over it pretty quickly.

Within three seconds of the bus moving, Koharu jumped around to lean over the back of his seat, "So Brainchild, you are literally in for the most sexually-charged day of your life."

"I hope not," I said.

Koharu twitched his face in Yuuji's direction, "You want to see some _real _men—"

"Now you're just being a dick," Yuuji hissed.

"You hit on us all the time," Kenya said, now pulling himself up on the back of our seat. "Literally all the time."

"But you guys are my friends…"

"I'm pretty sure I'm not your _friend_," Yuuji said.

"You're my _favorite_ friend."

"That's not what you said last night…"

I could tell Kenya was pretending to be irritated, and Haruka probably was, but I enjoyed being surrounded by these people. I wish I was as good at arguing as Koharu and Yuuji were. I wish I didn't just shut down under pressure.

"Hey," I said, leaning close to the couple, "Do you guys know anything special about Atobe? Anything that would help me make a good impression?"

"Don't ask things like _that_, for one thing," Haruka said.

"Hush," I said.

"Bring him a piece of Kura's hair," Kenya suggested.

"Well," Koharu began, kneading his fingers into the fine leather of the seat, "despite many people thinking Atobe is a pretentious, boastful, arrogant—"

"All sort of true," Yuuji added.

"He is also very perceptive, grateful and devoted and charismatic."

The opposite of me.

"But seriously Brainchild, you don't have to worry about him," Yuuji joined Koharu, perched in his seat. "It's not as if Atobe has any say whatsoever in your relationship."

"Although it is a privilege to have the magnificent Atobe bless it."

"The moral of the story is," Haruka said, "Atobe recognizes honesty when he sees it."

I'd like to think that I was an honest person. I'd like to think I was a lot of things. And sometimes I had to take stock of evidence, like the fact that I was on this bus in the first place, that I had a stupid nickname, that I've met Shiraishi's sister, that I have gotten to meet so many new people…But sometimes it was hard to believe that I was worthy of all of it. It still felt like one day I was going to wake up back in middle school, trying to make it through the future with barely-there friends and feeling terrible about myself.

Needing constant reinforcement to realize that I had made it this far was exhausting. I looked up at Kenya and realized it must have been exhausting for everyone else as well.

"What's wrong?" Kenya asked.

"Nothing."

Like I said, exhausting.

Haruka had taken the window seat, so I tried to focus on other things during the ride so I wouldn't be alone with my thoughts. I tried to watch Shiraishi, at the front of the bus, with a clipboard, talking to the captain. I wondered if the rest of the team liked Shiraishi more than their actual captain. If they did, Shiraishi made no of sign of acknowledging it. I wondered if the captain and I could be friends.

It was going to be a long ride so I decided to text Fuji.

_Do you know any of Atobe's secrets?_

It was sort of a joke, sort of a way to give myself power over the situation. I didn't expect anything.

_Because I'm going to meet him today and I've been told I need to impress him_, I added.

I put my phone back in my pocket, already regretting it. I didn't gossip. I was fine with letting people keep their own secrets but…but not when I felt weak and useless. So when my phone vibrated in my pocket, I waited only about twenty seconds before I reached for it.

FUJI_: He looks good bald too –xoxo_

I stared at my phone for a bit, unsure of pretty much everything.

"Why didn't An come?" Haruka asked suddenly. "Didn't you invite her?"

"I did," I said, "but she said she doesn't really like Hyotei…and plus it's date night."

"Date night?"

"It's like a thing she does with Momoshiro—"

Both Yuuji and Koharu jumped back up again.

"Beautiful…"

"Manly…"

"Violet-eyed…"

The two of them seemed to swoon together for a moment.

"Why aren't we playing Seigaku!"

"More humor, significantly less man-meat."

"Can you stop being so gay for like, ten minutes?" Kenya groaned.

"Can you stop being so hetero for like, ten minutes?" Both Yuuji and Koharu said at the same time. They turned to each other and high-fived before Yuuji tried to make out with Koharu, who playfully flicked him in the nose.

Haruka slumped back in her seat, looking strangely put-off.

She didn't talk for about another hour or so, and I had almost fallen asleep when she pinched at my elbow.

"Don't fall asleep," She warned.

"What?"

"Someone will draw something on your face."

"Are we there yet?"

"Give it a half hour or so."

"Thank you for doing my hair," I said, finally. "I'm just really bad at it."

"Don't worry about it," Haruka said. "My mom never lets me cut mine. I haven't had a haircut in years so…I've got to get used to it somehow."

Haruka had beautiful hair, no split ends, no grease, she must take good care of it. "Can you do it again for me, sometime?"

Her face softened in a way I didn't think was possible, "Sure."

We didn't talk about our fight, not once since it happened. I knew she had been very close to everyone on the team but after our scene, I felt like she looked a little detached, a little nervous, and for someone like her, that was a big deal. I didn't mean to disrupt her friendships. I fought for me and my mother, not so people could take sides. Most times she seemed alright, like she knew she couldn't talk to me the same way she did Yukari (she could _never _talk to An that way either) but sometimes I could tell she forgot that we should be equals now. But I wasn't afraid of her anymore. I knew I could survive without her. And now she knew it too.

"Can you braid _my_ hair, little lemon?"

"_What_ hair, Koharu?" She snapped back, not unlike a lemon.

* * *

Eventually, the bus pulled up into the parking lot of an enormous building where, in front, a group of boys were standing. Out the window, I could see courts on all sides of the structure.

The captain stood up, "Listen up guys! Hyotei is a very good team. I have no doubt we will face them on the way to Nationals this year so let's get the most we can out of this session. Be nice, and don't be too weird, alright? Like, be weird but not _too_ weird. You know what I mean."

I should have brought sunglasses, but I have never planned ahead when it really mattered. So I was blinking in the sun when the two teams collided. Hands were shook, shoulders were clapped, one hand was kissed, jokes were made.

Haruka kept her arm around mine the whole time.

Koharu was right, they were collectively a beautiful group of people. And somehow I couldn't get myself to be a part of it. I couldn't move towards them. I couldn't immerse myself in their inside jokes, I couldn't talk to them about tennis. To be honest, it didn't look like any of them cared about me. I started to think that maybe I could disappear back onto the bus and no one would know. Haruka would just disappear with me and we would go and talk about our own things.

But then I saw Shiraishi. And I guess he saw me too. I saw us both in our elements. Him, beautiful and smiling and talking and surrounded by people who thought he was awesome. And me, practically holding my friend's hand in the background. I had all of the things I always tried to convince myself I did, I just couldn't reach out and take it.

I told myself to simply not think. Because I knew I could do it, I had done it before, I had come so far. So far, that the more I thought about it, if I kept talking myself up more and more, I might, one day start to believe it.

I let go of Haruka's arm.

And I might have pushed Gin out of the way and I should have apologized but I didn't. But I felt lighter. The almost unbearable weight of worry was gone. I took a deep breath, nudging Shiraishi with my hip. Then I looked towards Atobe, holding out my hand, "It's great to meet you."

Only after I said it, did I really get a good look at Atobe. He radiated a kind of confidence that I had never seen before. He was stunning, with piercing eyes and perfect posture and lips a shade of pink girls would kill for. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and stared down at me for a few seconds. "So good of you to come. You have my guarantee it will be worth your time."

"Oh, oh I'm just glad I got to ride the bus."

I felt Shiraishi smile down at me but I was too focused on Atobe to smile back.

Atobe looked unfazed.

"Yo let's just play some _tennis_," Someone shouted.

A tall boy with black, shaggy hair and glasses sort of just appeared behind Atobe. "I have the boxes ready."

Atobe threw his hand up into the air, and with a single snap, the whole group grew quiet. I saw Kenya roll his eyes. The boy with glasses presented Atobe with a small cardboard box while he held onto the other one. In the obscurely perfect silence, the boy with glasses pulled a small piece of paper out of the box.

"Shishido."

Atobe did another glamorous hand gesture and reached into what I assumed was our box. "Kenya Oshitari."

"Fuck."

"Shit."

Both Shiraishi and Atobe sent harsh glances in different directions.

The boy with the glasses fished around again, "Kabaji…we know is with Gin…" He pulled out a third slip, "Oh, this one is me."

Another hand-flail, "Kou Matsuzaka."

"Dude!" Kenya groaned.

"Dude," the boy with glasses groaned back.

More silence.

"They're cousins," Shirashi whispered to me.

The other Oshitari drew another name, "Atobe."

We watched Atobe shuffle his hand around in the Shitenhouji box for a while before elegantly proclaiming, "Shiraishi, our time has come."

Kenya's cousin leaned over his captain's shoulder, "That's not what that says—"

"Nonsense."

I heard Kenya snicker some more before Shiraishi shrugged, "Whatever you say, Atobe."

"Naturally," Atobe scoffed.

"Gakuto, you're up next," said the other Oshitari. "Let's have you do doubles with Jirou."

"And that will be your pair—" Atobe nodded at Shirashi. "And then the rest of you guys can pair up however you see fit."

Shitenhouji brought their other doubles pair, the one with the weaker coordination, and I saw Kou (who turned out to be an angled boy with big eyebrows and a sharp, handsome face decorated with glasses) give Shiraishi a sour look. A few of the promising, future Shitenhouji regulars shuffled their feet, looking around.

"If you will all follow me to the courts, we can begin." Atobe gave another impossibly loud snap before turning and leading the way out of the parking lot.

I gave Shiraishi a confused look, he threw me an apologetic one before nodding in Atobe's direction. Kenya didn't wait before wordlessly throwing himself into Shiraishi and following Atobe. Atobe however, after realizing Shiraishi wasn't beside him, sort of halted, awkwardly until the two of us caught up.

"Yo, Yuushi, we should play after our matches," I heard Kenya say.

"Stop talking like you've already won!" Came a shout from farther behind us.

"I have to apologize for the short notice," Atobe said. "But Jirou has informed me that Rikkaidai has an exceptional team this year—not that I am surprised."

Shiraishi put his hands in his pockets. "They've always been exceptional. And they always will be with the Three Demons—"

If I hadn't still been looking at Atobe, I wouldn't have seen the sad scoff he made. And I wouldn't have seen the look of surprise on his face when the Oshitari seemed to jump into the conversation.

"Thank you again, Shiraishi, for looking after my cousin. Please don't let him get a motorcycle license."

"Fuck _off_ Yushi."

I felt Kenya's aggressive presence beside me. "Will you get a leather jacket then?" I asked.

Kenya grinned down at me, "Of course! And expensive sunglasses. See? Hisae thinks I should do it. And she is afraid of _everything_."

"Okay, first of all no, second of all, no."

"That was pretty harsh Kenya, especially since you have to hold my hand every time you go to the dentist," his cousin said.

"Yeah okay because a fat woman leaning over your open mouth with small knives isn't scary at all."

Atobe coughed. There were a substantial amount of courts that lay before us.

"Pair up, and get going!" Atobe commanded. No snap this time.

"Are you gonna mess up if I watch?" I asked Shiraishi.

"Oh gosh," Shiraishi smiled, "maybe. You do make me super nervous."

"Stop being so gross," Kenya hissed.

"That sounds like something someone without a pretty girlfriend would say."

"Shut _up_ Yuushi."

"Irrelevant," Atobe said, quite loudly. "I need to defeat you on the grand stage of the entire world."

Shiraishi just smiled weakly at Atobe's enthusiasm before looking at me. For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me in front of all these people—the grand stage of the entire world—but he just stepped on my foot, "It's a _good_ nervous."


End file.
